City of the Toa
by Automatonation
Summary: AU. Thousands of years in the future, Iri Nui is a massive city populated only by Toa. Heroism has died. Power has dwindled. Crime and corruption are rampant. Only one Toa, Loc, seems to realize that something is wrong. Is there anything he can do?


AN: I do not own Bionicle.

City of the Toa

===Day 1===

Loc walked slowly through the busy streets of Iri Nui, the twin suns high in the sky glinting off the teal armor covering his lithe, skinny frame. Toa of every element, stature, and power-level brushed past him, carrying briefcases, hurrying to their unknown destination. Loc was empty-handed; the only possession he carried nestled on his back. Some toa, obviously weak, nearly powerless by the grayish tint of their mask, avoided him upon seeing the grim expression – and full color – of his Komau. Loc ignored them.

Loc was absorbed in his thoughts, thoughts that grew darker as the limited residual telepathy provided by his Kanohi showed him the thoughts of those that noticed what he was. What he was was an enigma. There were only three varieties of toa that were female: Water, Light, and Plant. Loc was the exception, and the hostile, confused thoughts of those around him confirmed, in his mind, that he was inherently _wrong_. His confused wanderings took him out of the crowded urban walkways, and into the dim, dark, filthy alleyways of the city.

He soon wished he hadn't taken the turn. Loc hated the urban sprawl of the city, felt pity for the lone, weak, dying plants trapped in the malnourished soil inside little protodermis cages on the sidewalks. In the alleys, he felt the screams of the plants slowly dying as the toxins seeped through the cracked concrete beneath his feet. He gave a little elemental push, and the dying plants mutated, gaining the ability to feed off the toxins, convert them into more nourishment. This was his habit, in these places, his little act of kindness, attempting to do his part in cleaning up the city. "_Mata Nui knows it needs it._", he thought. The city of Iri Nui was a filthy, disgusting place, filled with bustling toa with no care for the environment, save for a small spattering of Water- and Plant- toa. A distant scream broke his environmental reveille.

Loc ran, eating up long distances with his bounding run, towards the source of the noise. He soon came in sight of a water toa, nearly powerless, attempting to hold off two attackers, toa of earth and magnetism, with thin, weak streams of water. The toa of magnetism's weapon, a nasty looking cutlass, glowed faintly, using its power to hold his struggling victim to the ground. "Well, now, ain't you a pretty little thing. Let's see what you have in that purse of yours. Glak, my friend, relieve her of the goods."

Glak grinned, and his mask, one that Loc did not recognize, glowed. Its purpose, however, was soon apparent. Glak's arms stretched out to an incredible length, weaved around the weak streams of water still issuing from the toa of water's fingertips, and grabbed the blue satchel that she held tightly in her other hand. She struggled to retain her grasp, but Glak, even when possessing a rubber-like state, was too strong, he wrenched the bag from her grip, and was almost to a normal length when Loc acted. Strong vines burst from the pavement and gripped the purse, shocking all three toa into temporary motionlessness.

"Give her back her purse, Glak," Loc called, "And nobody gets hurt." Glak's eyes darted up and down the approaching figure, and then his mouth broke into a sneer.

"Look 'ere Dex, we gots us a pansy toa of salad. Wadda ya think we should do wit' 'im?"

Dex grinned, and brandished his sword. "I like my veggies chopped." He leered. Loc said nothing as he drew the leaf-bladed spear from his back. Dex charged, swinging his cutlass, his purple Pakari glowing to boost his attack. Instead of blocking, Loc twisted aside, using the shaft of his spear to deflect the blade and send Dex off-balance. He then exerted a small amount of elemental energy, and hundreds of small vines shot from the ground and entwined around Dex's legs, rapidly creeping up his torso, around his arms, and then, last, over his head, leaving only a small hole for Dex to breathe out of. Another exertion and the vines flowered, reproducing exactly the contours and features of Dex in black and purple. A look of horror was on his reproduced face.

"Now who's a pansy?" Loc quipped. At the sight of his partner turned into a shrubbery, Glak wasted no time in dropping the purse and running, screaming in fear. Turning to the Toa of water, Loc saw that she was quaking in fear. "Are -", he began to ask but he was interrupted by her scream.

"Get away from me, you freak!" She turned and ran, activating her Kakama.

As she zoomed away, Loc started to shout in protest, "But, I -", but it was too late. She was already gone. He sighed, and then beckoned to the living sculpture that contained Dex. "Come on. Let's go to the detention center." The sculpture sprouted a leafy base, which grew four thick vine legs, and began to follow him. The cutlass, unencumbered by vines, dropped to the pavement with a loud clang, ending, in an appropriate fashion, a decidedly unhappy encounter.

===Day 2===

Rising from the bed in his small, natty apartment on the top floor of a large, natty apartment building, Loc felt an astounding sense of confusion and discomfort. He glanced around at the many potted plants, and felt sorrow and familiarity. He sympathized with their pain, their discomfort at being confined inside prisons of clay, but knew that he could not release them, for the same reason he could not leave this place, this city that confined him. The plants, well, the landlord of this building, an obese, powerful toa of fire, had stated, in no uncertain terms, that if he found a single root poking into a wall, there would be _consequences_, and that any damages would be repaid by Loc. Loc sighed again, and a slight elemental exertion started his morning routine.

A Bula-berry tree in a large pot by the table in his room grew two large fruit, and gently dropped them on the table, in a plate-shaped leaf that had just grown for that express purpose. In another corner, a _caff_ tree dropped dried beans into a grinder, and then sent a tendril to turn it on. A delicious smell filled the air, invigorating Loc. He walked over to a refrigerator in the corner, and removed a pair of Gukko eggs, which he promptly scrambled, tossing in a hint of cheese and garlic. The _caff _tree emptied the grinder into a paper pouch and passed it to a plant that was glowing hotly at its core. That tree put the pouch into a cup of boiling water, which steamed, and sent even more delicious aromas around the room. Before long, Loc was sitting at the table, eating scrambled Gukko eggs, Bula berries, sipping a mug of _caff_, and reading a news paper that a carnivorous plant, which now lay affectionately in his lap, had brought him.

He spent fifteen luxurious minutes over breakfast, before folding the newspaper, gently scratching the carnivorous plant, which he had dubbed 'Butch', behind the petals, and lifted its head off his lap. Vines, suspended in hanging baskets, took the plate, now dried and withered, and shredded it into the pot of another plant, while Loc took the metal utensils and mug to the sink and washed them. Yet more vines picked up the utensils, dried them, and put them away. A skinny tree next to the door handed Loc a green apron, embroidered with a stylized tree, and work gloves. Loc put these in a briefcase, grabbed his spear, which stood next to the door, then looked around the room. He didn't want to leave, but, like his precious plants, he had to, trapped in the prison of society. He turned and walked out the door. One plant, more sentient than the others, grabbed the newspaper and opened it up. The headline caught its light-sensitive patch.

"TOA OF WATER RESCUED BY MISTERIOUS SHRUB WIELDER."

The plant seemed to sigh, then folded the newspaper and placed it back on the table.

Loc was a plant-whisperer, one of the only professions available to toa of plants that did not involve manual labor in fields. He was privileged enough to work in a greenhouse nursery, gently cultivating and training semi-sentient plants for wealthy buyers. These ranged from flowers and phosphorescent plants that would produce aromas or light at a hand-clap, to large vines that would turn back any intruder other than their owner, and Loc, of course. Loc enjoyed his job, but still, it left him sad, and feeling unfulfilled. Even among his co-workers, all female toa of plants, he was looked upon as odd, if not unnatural.

Loc sighed before purchasing a chute ticket from a surly toa of stone. His commute was fairly long, all the way from the core of the city, where his apartment was, to the outskirts of town, where there was enough sunlight to grow plants properly. This area was known as the 'Brilliance district', because of all the toa of light that lived there. In fact, this was just about the only place where Loc felt accepted, because of the fact that there were male and female toa of light. As a rule, Av-Toa were accepting of anybody, except criminals. In the pod that carried him rapidly through the chute, Loc sat across from a skinny Ta-Matoran, no older than twelve, who was reading a comic book entitled "The Amazing Adventures of Rahi-Toa". Loc smiled. There were no Toa of Rahi that he knew of. He would let the child dwell in his fantasy world for now, because it wasn't too long before the Ta-Matoran would enter the adult world.

In this city, at age thirteen, every Matoran was given a Toa-stone. All turned to toa, who were then put in a three- year training program, and then condemned to work in one job for the rest of their lives, some eight hundred years. After this time, the old toa drained their power into more toa stones, and then retired to another island as Turaga. Loc had only been working for fifty years. His smile threatened to fade, but he pasted a false one on over it, and then leaned forward to speak to the boy.

"Like the book?"

The Matoran looked up, startled. "Ummm…yeah. This is my favorite issue." He was about to say more, but the Ga-toa sitting next to him, obviously his mother, clamped a hand over his mouth.

She glared daggers at Loc, and then whispered to her son. "Don't talk to him. He's a greenie, and that's just not natural." She turned to Loc. "Stay away from my son, creep. In case you haven't noticed, I'm full powered, and I won't think twice about jet-blasting your carcass over the next five blocks of pavement if you so much as look at him." Loc sighed, stood up, and lurched over to an empty seat several rows back. He hated the way people treated him, like he was no more than some perverted animal, but what could he do? He felt the ga-toa's glare burning holes into his brain until his stop came. By that time, he was glad to leave.

===Day 2, later===

Loc walked wearily along the twisted avenues that lead back to his apartment. He felt like he could not bear to ride in the chutes again after what had happened this morning. It was growing dark; he had left the Brilliance district far behind. It was a bad part of the city, but it was the closest path home. Before it got too dark to see, Loc opened his briefcase and got out a small clay pot, filled with soil and one seed. A small elemental push and the seed sprouted, producing one long, bioluminescent leaf. The blue-green light lit his way as he closed his briefcase and continued.

Loc was only blocks away from his apartment building when he heard the engines of a dozen hover-bikes. He groaned. This was just not his day. Before he could take another step, he was surrounded by twelve toa, an even dispersal of the reds of Fire-toa, the orangish glow of toa of plasma, and the flickering yellow-blue of electric toa, all riding tricked out hover-bikes with gleaming chrome and expensive paint-jobs. All the toa had twisting horns welded to their Kanohi. Loc groaned again; he had bumbled into the territory of Kharzani's angels, the worst biker gang on Iri Nui. The leader, a Fire-Toa with large, curling horns attached to his tattooed Hau and the bulging veins that were a typical symptom of being an Overpump addict, jumped off his bike and marched up to Loc. He loomed a head over Loc's head, looked down, and sneered. "What have we got here? Lose your pet tree, flower-boy?"

Loc didn't answer, and took a step backwards. Overpump was an illegal, highly addictive drug that dramatically increased the elemental energy and strength of the user, but also decreased their patience, intelligence, and lifespan. Overpump users were highly volatile, often bursting into rage at the slightest provocation. This one looked like he had just taken a hit of it. A covert glance around showed that all the bikers had just taken a hit. Loc began to panic inside, though he kept control of his expression.

The biker took another step forward, looming again. "Going somewhere? It's not polite to leave without being introduced. That kind of rudeness might make me angry…" He shoved Loc, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Loc stood up slowly, leaving the glowing plant and briefcase on the ground. "I'm Loc. Can I please leave?"

The biker laughed. "I'm Torch. Well, flower-boy, I think that you might want to show us what's in that briefcase if you want to get home…in one piece."

Loc smiled coldly. "Very well, 'Torch', but I must warn you: I don't take well to being threatened." He bent down and opened the briefcase, showing a packet of seeds, work gloves, apron, trowel, and a small bag containing five widgets. He did not open the compartment that held his spear, neatly folded for necessity.

Torch laughed again, long and hard. "Did you hear that, boys? Pansy here doesn't 'take well to being threatened.' Do you think he'll stand a chance if we decide he threatened us?"

Loc sighed, and then laid his hand on the release for his spear compartment. "Pansy is such a tired nickname. I was called Pansy yesterday. The guy that called me that had to be dipped in industrial strength herbicide to get all the roots out."

"Oh, tough pansy, eh?" Torch sneered. "Listen, flower-boy, my boys and I don't like threats. You know what we do about threats? We ignore 'em, and then we pummel the person what threatens us. Got it?" Torch drew a long firesword from his back and ignited it. "And right now, I feel threatened." He grinned like a Piraka as his gang all drew their weapons and jumped off their bikes.

"You know, I concur wholeheartedly with that opinion." Loc popped open the compartment, and grabbed his spear, straightening the long shaft and adopting a ready stance.

Torch's grin faded a little, but soon brightened. "Leave 'im to me, boys, this'll be fun." He charged, sword high, ready to strike down. Loc's spearhead deflected the blow, and then slapped the blade aside. Loc stepped in, striking with the butt of the pole at Torch's belly, impacting with a satisfying oomph from his opponent. Smiling, Loc stepped back, twirled his spear, and then struck a ready stance.

"What, 'Flower-boy' too tough for you?" Loc taunted. Torch rushed again, sword swinging from the side, but Loc moved like a snake, ducking the blow, and then battering at Torch with the flat of his spear in a rapid flurry of blows. Torch bellowed like a furious Kane-Ra, and rushed again, with the same result. Aching, confused, the furious biker retreated, then made enormous balls of fire in his fists and launched them. Loc dodged these too, the impact of the projectiles making molten carters in the wall behind him.

"So, you brought elements into the equation. You might regret that later." Loc walked over to his briefcase, and opened the packet of seeds, withdrawing one largish pod the size of his thumb. "Do you see this? This is one of the most destructive plants of all time, used thousands of years ago on the distant Island of Metru Nui by the fearsome Makuta who desired to rule there. This is a seed of the dreaded Morbuzakh. And it's under my control." Lovingly, Loc placed the seed on the ground. "Now, do I have to use it, or will you leave me alone?" The blank looks of Torch and his cronies told Loc that they didn't have a clue what the Morbuzakh was.

"What can a plant do? Bring it on, flower-boy." Torch's bravado, while shaky, was still present.

Loc sighed again. "Then you leave me no choice. What can a plant do? This." He cupped his hands over the seed, and it began to sprout, drawing energy from the air. Loc directed its vegetable mind towards Torch, telling it to contain him. The Morbuzakh always does what it is told, at first. Brown vines shot towards Torch, who fired flame after flame at them, with no negative effect. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, flame head. The Morbuzakh feeds off of heat. You're giving it treats."

Inexorably, the vines bound Torch, who started screaming when it touched him, into a struggling cocoon. "It's talking to me! Make it stop! Stop! Please!" The vines crept over his mouth, and the screams were muffled.

Loc shook his head. "Anyone else? This thing can get much, MUCH bigger." The eleven remaining bikers looked at each other, and then scrambled onto their bikes, jetting off in all directions. Loc turned to the vine encased bundle that had been Torch. "All right Morby, let him go."

A sibilant hissing voice emanated from the largest vine. "_What happens if I don't?_"

"Then you die painfully. Let the Toa go." Loc crossed his arms and glared at the plant.

"_Fine. Do you want a seed?_" The Morbuzakh asked reluctantly, loosening the coils of vine that bound Torch.

Loc slung Torch, who was pale and unconscious, across the bike. "Yes, that would be nice. Just one, please."

The Morbuzakh sent one tendril to rest on Loc's outstretched palm. The end of the vine swelled, then burst, revealing one glistening brown seed that swiftly dried. Loc put the seed into his pouch, then waved his spear and concentrated. The Morbuzakh began to shrivel, dying rapidly. "I'm sorry that I have to do this, but your kind was bred for one purpose: Destruction. "

The dying, sibilant rustle, heard faintly before the vine collapsed into dust, seemed to say "_I understand. Goodbye Master._"

Loc watched the sentient vine crumble, and then sadly turned to mount the hover-bike draped with Torch's unconscious form. He gunned the engine and raced for the nearest prison.

The prison system of Iri Nui was vast and complex, involving many different varieties of cells, in order to compensate for inmates with many different capabilities. Loc drove to the prison that specialized in containing toa of fire, and dropped off Torch with a note explaining the situation and requesting drug rehab, 2000 widgets to be held until his release, and a receipt for the purchase of his hover-bike. Loc had quite enjoyed the rush of wind past his Kanohi and the thrill of driving the tricked-out machine, so he purchased the vehicle for four times it's worth.

Five minutes later, Loc parked the bike in a garage, and rode the elevator up to his apartment. He stood outside his door, contemplating ordering take-out food, but decided against it. He wasn't very hungry. He opened the door, and nearly collapsed under the wet, slobbery, licking weight of Butch, his pet carnivorous plant. Laughing, Loc gently shoved his pet's clay pot off his chest, got up, and entered the forest of eagerly waving greenery in his room. He closed the door behind him, and then exhaustion hit him. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "_11:00,_"he thought. "_But tomorrow is my day off. I can sleep late._" He strode to his bed and collapsed onto it. He was asleep before he touched the mattress.

===Day 17===

Over the next two weeks, Loc continued to work at the nursery, his apathy and depression forgotten. He still got odd looks, but ignored them. The driving force behind his new outlook on life was twofold. First, he spent all his free time tinkering with the hover-bike he had "purchased" from Torch, using a mechanical aptitude he had not known he possessed. The bike was now a brilliant shade of leaf-green, with a painted motif of thorny brown vines curling over the rear hover-pods. What's more, Loc had overhauled the engine so that it ran whisper-quiet, but over three times as efficient as before he possessed it. That bike was his pride and joy.

The second reason Loc was happy was that he now felt like he had a Destiny. He kept looking back onto the experiences of two weeks previous, the little thrill he felt when he brought criminals and miscreants to justice. Loc began to dream of being a crimefighter, combating injustice in the streets of Iri Nui. He remembered the comic books of his youth, recalled the heroes they portrayed: The Amazing Fikou-Toa, The Incredible Bulk, and The Fabulous Four. He felt a child-like urge to be like them, to use his element for the greater good. Loc began to think of costumes and codenames, equipment and special moves, quips and character. Was this just a dream? Could this happen? Loc did not know, but his mind was carried away by imagination.

The culmination of all this was that Loc soon became so entranced by his visions that he began to slack off on his job, to the dismay of his co-workers. Finally, Loc's boss, an imposing, unusually violent Toa of Plants named Val'kri decided enough was enough. She barged into Loc's small plant-training cubical, filling the doorway with her immense height and girth (mostly muscle). "Listen, you little freak!" she bellowed. The _caff_ tree Loc was tending recoiled in the shockwave. Rumor had it that Val'kri was half toa of Power-scream. "If you don't get your sorry head out of the clouds before you come back tomorrow, I'll dice you into cubes and use you for fertilizer! Now get out of my sight! NOW!" Val'kri stormed off, leaving Loc and the caff tree trembling on the floor.

Wordlessly, he began to pack his suitcase, but was interrupted by the timid voice of one of his co-workers. "Is she gone?"

Loc turned and saw that it was Lora, a beautiful toa of Plants. Her gorgeously shaped Kakama was nearly completely gray, with only the barest hint of teal around the mouth, but Loc knew that Lora was one of the best toa in the city at gardening without elemental ability. This didn't stop Val'kri from picking on her, however. The pair of them, Loc and Lora, were the scape-mahi for anything that went wrong in the nursery. Loc sighed. "Hi Lora. She's gone. Can I help you?"

Lora's smile of relief was positively luminescent. "I heard her yelling. What did you do this time?"

Loc smirked. "I daydreamed. About being away from here…and her." Loc shook his head, as if trying to drive a buzzing fly from between his ears. "I just can't stop thinking that I'm meant for better than this job. I mean, I'm the only male Toa of Plant-life in the universe, so there must be SOME purpose for my existence." He shook his head again. "So, how far this time?"

Lora smiled again. "Five blocks." Lora, due to having virtually no elemental energy, but possessing a Kakama, acted as a delivery girl, taking plants to clients everywhere in the city. "But I was running, and you know what a Kakama does to your senses when it's active." It had become a game to them to see how far away they could hear their boss when she began to rant.

Loc smirked again, but sadly. "This will be the last time. I'm not coming back. I just can't take this anymore. I need to find my own destiny."

Lora clasped her hands to her mouth in horror. "But- she'll hunt you down. I like you too much to want to see your head on the wall next to that horrible Kane-Ra." She shuddered prettily. Val'kri was well-known for her barbaric hunting trophies, the disembodied heads of many different Rahi mounted on the walls of her vast office.

On impulse, Loc grabbed her hands in his. "Then don't come back. Leave with me, and help me achieve my dream, my vision of a crime-free Iri Nui. I've seen what you can do, you're a brilliant fighter. Together we can make this city a better place." He smiled earnestly, pleadingly, suddenly filled with the knowledge that this was what he was meant to do.

Lora smiled and murmured "OK, I will."

Loc felt happier than he had ever felt in his life.

===Day 47===

Time rolled on in the city, watching the hurrying Toa in the streets go about their errands. Nothing seemed to change in the vast metropolis, but things were afoot in the underbelly of the island. The criminal world began to whisper of a stalking, brown-and-green robed figure that was hunting down petty thieves. These thieves would turn up on the doorstep of the Police Station, trembling, bound in dried vines that clung to their armor. They would rock in chairs, muttering incoherently about pruning. They would scream in fear if they saw a potted plant, or if someone sent them flowers. The only thing they would say to their interrogators was that 'The Gardner' had come to 'prune' the city of evil.

Those who were discussing this new development would chuckle at this point, but with an underlying current of fear. They would glance around at the lair supported by illicit goods, and hope that The Gardener would miss this weedy slum. Fear rustled through the city like a rat through fallen leaves.

In a cantina near one of the many ports on the coast on the city, a cloaked figure sat hunched over the bar, nursing a glass of silvery fluid in a black-gloved hand. No part of his skin or armor could be seen, but there was an inescapable sense of menace exuded by the black cloak. A faint humming emanated from underneath that cloak, inaudible only a bio away. No-one heard it. The cantina was filled with roaring, happy, intoxicated low-lives. This dock was the part of town that the police wouldn't go near without about five hundred allies. Smugglers sat with bank robbers, swapping tales with serial killers and Overpump dealers. If it could be bought, it could be bought here – if you survived getting in. The place was filled with obvious weapons of all kinds, from Addersteeth shruiken to zettawatt dirks.

But no-one dared go near the hooded figure at the bar. They had seen the bar-keeper's fear as he took the being's order, and the bartender was an enormous Skakdi, that had scars from countless battles.

Two petty thieves seated at a table near the cloaked being watched him surreptitiously. You couldn't watch anyone obviously in this bar – you could lose your eyes, or more. One, a tallish Toa of Electricity that had the characteristic flickering yellow-blue armor muttered to his companion, a squat, muscular Toa of gravity. "'ere, Jorj, wadda ya think o' this bloke. 'e must ha' downed enough Mana Blasta's to drop a Tahtorak."

Jorj shook his head warningly. "Careful. Don't draw attention to yourself, Laari." It was too late. The figure at the bar tossed back his fifth glass and looked directly at Laari. Two flickering, red eyes burned into his soul. Slowly, deliberately, the black-cloaked figure stood up. He walked over to the table where Jorj and Laari were sitting, their empty glasses trembling on the table. The room fell abruptly silent, absolutely still with an air of anticipation and fear. Someone had slipped.

The hooded figure reached the table, and looked at Laari, slow, long, and malevolent. When he finally spoke, it was in a low buzz, almost intelligible. "_What izzzz you namezzzz?_"

Petrified, Jorj spoke, protecting his accomplice, who seemed about to crawl under the table. "J-J-Jorj, zu – sir. Th-Th-This is L-L-Laari." Swallowing his fear and bile, Jorj ventured to ask a daring question. "W-W-What is y-y-yore n-n-name?"

The figure turned to Jorj, red eyes blazing with gleeful malice. "_We izzzz ZZZZwarm._" He turned to Laari. "_Zzzzzo, Laarizzzz. Drinkzzz wantzzz? Zzzzervant! Givezzz him zzzome Mana Blazzzterzzz._" He beckoned to the bartender, who hurriedly filled as many glasses as he could with the volatile drink, and brought them to the table. He sloppily put the tray onto the table, slopping the thick fluid over the sides of several of the six glasses. The tray started to smoke. Zwarm turned to Laari, his evil eyes smiling. "_Drinkzzz, or thizzzz one zzzhowzzz you why their name izzzz Zzzzwarm._"

Laari reached out one trembling hand to take a glass. It was warm. He lifted it slowly to his lips. They stung. The onlookers watched as the thick fluid trickled down Laari's throat. The glass was empty. Laari smacked his lips. It wasn't too bad. It had burned on the way down, but what strong drink didn't? Then, he knew something was wrong. It wouldn't stop burning! He felt hot trickles of boiling blood and lubricant trickle down his throat. Panicking, Laari tried to scream. He coughed out his trachea. Smoke began to pour out of his throat. The smell was sickening. The onlookers, hardened from battles and crime, had never seen anything this gruesome. The bartender, on the other hand, had. Mana Blasters were typically only drunk by Toa of acid. Laari began to convulse, blood and stomach acid pouting onto the floor. The smoke from his mouth was joined by smoke from his eyes, ears and nose. He kept screaming silently until his heartlight dissolved in a fountain of intoxicating acid.

Zwarm turned to the onlookers. "_No-one elzzze? We hazzzzz plenty to zzzzzpare._" The crowd scattered. In the darkness of his hood, Zwarm smiled to himself. This city was going to be fun.

===Day 49===

The darkness shrieked mechanically. A thrusting hand flailed wildly for the button that would end it all. An impact, a grunt of satisfaction soon followed by a growl of sleepy irritation at the continuing racket. Loc sat up in bed, glaring at the silent alarm clock before sudden realization struck him. It was the other alarm – the important one. He leapt out of bed, grabbed the brown robe draped haphazardly over the back of a rickety chair next to the table, fumbled with the earpiece and microphone combination that rested next to the clock before inserting it in his ear. "Mata Nui, why can't there be an alarm at ten o'clock?" he asked, although he seemed to be talking more to himself than any of the plants that were his companions in the room.

"Because the bad guys keep early hours, Gardener." His earpiece answered, in the voice of his close friend, Lora.

"Well, they shouldn't." Loc replied, sweeping a mug of cold caff from the table and gulping it down. "What's hopping, Root?"

"Well, the United Bank in the Le – Vac district reported a disturbance. They said that swarms of small insects are holding up several branches."

"Huh. Insects. How small?" Loc stopped stock still, in the middle of putting a green, pouched belt around his waist.

"Very small. They're less than .05 bio long. Possibly less than .01." A hint of urgency suddenly filled Lora's voice, causing a slight tinny resonance. "This just in: the insects seem to be controlled by an odd Skakdi. He's at the main branch. Get going, Gardener."

"I wish you wouldn't get so impersonal." Loc complained, although he was moving more rapidly than before. He grabbed a long quarterstaff and hung it on his back. "I'm going, Root. Keep in touch." Loc pulled the brown hood over his face, casting deep shadows. His green eyes shown out brightly. "Time to _prune_."

Lora sighed. "You and your puns. Just GO!"

Loc jumped out the window.

He paused for a moment, enjoying the thrill of freefall for a second, before twitching his fingers, causing two green leaves to sprout from the bands on his wrists. In an instant, the leaves were large enough to function as a glider. Loc zoomed, twisting around the skyscrapers, through the city until he saw his goal. "OK Root, I've got it. Gimme control in one second." He folded the leaf wings and plummeted fifty bio – to land on his hoverbike. "Control please, Root." The bike seemed to relax, yield control to the cloaked rider.

It was only a minute before the Gardener reached the main branch. It was still dark, but the lights in the bank shown out brightly. The Gardener felt his heart began to beat faster in anticipation, his entire body preparing for a fight. He ran up the emerald-colored marble steps to the double doors, gaping like the maw of a Rahi. Bright, golden light shone out of the portal. For a moment, the Gardener was silhouetted by the light, but then he was gone, inside the bank.

The beautiful architecture inside the bank did not cause the Gardener's gaping mouth. Swarms of green-gray insects, miniscule but obviously dangerous buzzed in angry circles around the huddled guards, three Toa of Air and one of Vacuum. It was moments before Loc realized that the modulating buzz formed words.

"_Give uzzz the codezzzz or your zzztinking livezzzz are forfeit!_" was the first thing Loc understood.

The Toa of Vacuum coughed, choking on the bodies of insects that were trying to crawl down his throat. "I…don't know the pass-codes!" he shrieked. The myriad swarm seemed to coagulate around him, and when it dissolved, the Toa was reduced to a pile of pitted armor and polished bones.

That was too much. Loc grabbed two seeds out of his pouch and threw them to the center of the room, causing them to sprout as they flew. "That's enough, Buzzers!" he called, running toward the bound trio of guards. "You're violating controlled airspace!" The plants sprouted huge jaws and started to snap at the millions of insects. Soon, the entire swarm soon resided inside the green predators.

The Gardener untied the guards, who were gazing in awe, tinged with fear at his hooded face. "Get out of here. Tell the family of this pour guy." He said, indicating the pile of components that was all that remained of the ex-Toa of Vacuum. The guards ran out of the building, calling words of thanks over their shoulders.

Loc smiled, and then muttered to his earpiece. "Root, remind me to research wisecracks for every conceivable occasion." A snicker over the speaker confirmed his transmission. Suddenly, a violent buzzing alerted Loc to a change in events.

He spun rapidly to see the two carnivorous plants in the hall writing in pain. The tough, leathery green skin began to bubble, and then erode away. The swarm poured from a thousand holes, swirling like storm-clouds against the ceiling of the great room. An eerie, buzzing laugh echoed throughout the chamber. "_You Fool! You thinkzzz thezzze plantzzz can withzztand the Power of ZZZwarm? We will zzzhow you otherwizzze!_"

The swirling swarm spiraled down to the marble floor and began to coagulate again. The swarm slowly coalesced into the tall, spined body of an enormous Skakdi. His green-gray skin bubbled and writhed as the insects jockeyed for positions. The eyes, unlike the blazing orange of normal Skakdi, were the flat black of insect eyes. "_Runzzz, Little Toa._ _You are the Preyzzz._"

Loc shuddered, but replied. "Nah, I don't think so. Why don't you go find some Rama-paper to play with?"

Zwarm smiled broadly, showing, not the luminescent white of normal Skakdi teeth, but a horrible black pit. "_Inzzzolent Toa. We will enjoy thizzz one._"

The Gardener spoke urgently into his earpiece. "Root, tell me something, NOW!"

He heard keys clattering in the background as Zwarm made a rush at him, forming his body into a bullet-shaped missile the size of Loc's torso. Loc flipped out of the way, landing in a cartwheel. "Ummmm….try something sticky, preferably sweet. That's your best bet." The reply came in the middle of an acrobatic summersault, breaking Loc's concentration. He tumbled to the ground, rolling rapidly to avoid the swarm of insects that rushed him.

"Hau." He panted. He gestured with hands, and a flower poked out of his sleeve and spewed sap at his buzzing enemy.

"well, I would suggest making a vine…" replied Lora, but Loc cut her off.

"Kanohi Hau! Send it on the Suva!" he shouted

"Oops, sorry. Sending." She replied. Loc felt his mask shimmer and remold itself into the mask of shielding, just in time. Zwarm's insects had eaten the sweet sap off of themselves, and were buzzing angrily at him, shrieking angrily.

"_You thinkzzz to feed uzzz? We will zzzzzzzzz your bzzz-zzzzz!_"

Loc activated the Hau, feeling a sense of safety envelope him as the shield emerged. The swarm broke around the translucent dome and boiled invective at him. "Lora, that just made him mad! He ate the sap! I'm going to try acid." Loc pulled a seed out of his bag and concentrated, rewriting its genetic code. Soon, the seed sprouted, becoming a sort of backpack with two vines spiraling around Loc's arms. The ends of the vines blossomed into deep-throated, brilliant green flowers. "Bingo."

Loc turned within the shield to see that Zwarm had reformed his Skakdi body. He dropped the shield. "Hey, Bug-boy! Eat this!" he concentrated, and streams of glowing acid shot from the flowers.

Zwarm took him literally. He opened his horrible mouth unnaturally wide and _swallowed _streams of corrosive acid. The foul being sneered. "_What, you wantzzz uzzz to get drunk? We drinkzzz Mana Blazzzterzzz, and thozzze are zzztronger than thizzz! You think we are weak? We were created by the Makutazzz out of the zzzzpawn of Zzzzaktan and invulnerability Kratta of their own ezzzence! Puny Toa, you will be conzzzumed!_"

"Root, any ideas would be helpful!" Loc was really stressed. Nothing he did was working. "What Kanohi do we have?"

"Ummm…. Your Komau, that Hau you're wearing, a great Kiril, ummm… a Kaukau for some reason, and:" Lora grunted, "my Kakama. I'm wearing the Kaukau now."

"Kakama. On my mark." Loc activated his Hau again as Zwarm charged him, seeming a giant, buzzing, gaping maw of death. Once again, the swarm buzzed around the shield, unable to touch him. "NOW!" The shield faded, but Loc felt the rush of speed provided by the Kakama. He was off like an Ice Bat out of Kharzani, running in rapid circles around the swarm of Makuta-cursed insects that were his enemy. The air formed a tornado, rapidly tumbling Zwarm out of control.

But, yet again, this attack did not work. The bugs began grasping each other, and formed the body of Zwarm, drifting trails of windswept insects from his spines. Zwarm reached out into the path of Loc, and snatched him of the ground, knocking his mask off. The wind died. Zwarm began to make his insects climb up the arm holding Loc off the ground. They swarmed all over him, and Loc knew, faintly, barely conscious from the loss of his Kanohi, that it was nearly over.

===Day 49, Continued===

"_We lozzzt zzzixteen of our componentzzz in your attack, Toa. Perhapzzz we can remove zzzeventeen of yourzzz before we eatzzz you._" Zwarm buzzed, his writhing arm clenched tightly around Loc's neck. "_But we wantzzz you to zzzuffer firzzzt..._" Loc blacked out from lack of oxygen.

When Loc opened his eyes again, he was in an empty white room, ethereal and pure, filled with smiling heroes of the past. He saw brave, scarred Tahu Nuva, who had defeated Rahkshi in one-on-one combat more times than he could count. He saw Jaller and Hahli Mahri; saviors of Mata Nui, her wing-fin draped protectively over Jaller's broad shoulders. He gazed in awe at the Rahaga, who, although hunched and ugly, had the ghost images of their former selves standing over them. Finally, he saw Gali Nuva the Fair, her beautiful eyes gazing at him. She walked up to him, and placing her hands on his bare cheeks, she whispered to him "Now is not the time for you to join us. You are the only hope of a city filled with Toa who are not heroes. Return to your body, and protect Iri Nui from evil."

She smiled sweetly, and then sprouted horns. Several of the Toa in the background abruptly turned into Gukko. "What? What's happening?" Loc gasped in surprise.

Gali's head turned upside down. "What did you expect?" she said, then abruptly transformed into a Ruki. "This is a hallucination, after all." The fish sputtered.

Loc gasped again, back in the hall of the bank. The white room, the absurd Toa, and most surprisingly, Zwarm were nowhere to be seen. Faint sirens echoed around the marble pillars. Loc weakly crawled over to his Kakama, lying on the floor a bio away. He put it on, and then weakly limped to his feet. The sirens were getting louder. "Lora," he gasped, "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah. Are you ok?" she asked, concern tingeing her voice. "There for a bit your vitals were slipping."

"I am now. Remind me to watch out for that guy. Why'd he scamper?" Loc asked, storing the fact that Lora had installed biometric sensors in his robe in his memory.

"He heard the siren, I guess. The police finally got a clue. They're only a minute away." She replied, with a faint sense of urgency. "Do you want to reveal yourself to the public?"

"Not yet." Loc pulled up the cowl of his robe, and then began to run for the door. He slammed the doors open, rushed down the steps, and took a flying leap onto his hover-bike. Gunning the engines, he shot through the streets, weaving in and out of early morning traffic. His robe flapped in the breeze, and he had to tug on his hood to continue to cover his face. "I'm going to come to your place, Root. We need to brainstorm on how to beat Zwarm, among other things. I'll be there in five minutes."

Lora lived in the Green Zone, a sleepy little district where the Le-Vac, Plantlife, and Acid sectors conjoined. It was a beautiful place, full of parks and without any buildings higher than five stories or any of the breweries that filled the Acid District. She owned her own home, inherited from her mother, a successful botanist that had gone missing several years before. It was a beautiful house, overflowing with plants that Lora had grown herself.

Loc slowed down to the speed limit when he reached the border of the Green Zone, not wishing to disturb the peaceful place with the roar of his hover bike. "_I have got to get a less conspicuous mode of transportation…_" he thought as he pulled into the driveway of Lora's home. She opened the door as he got off his bike, still wearing a Kaukau.

"You're early." she said.

"I was hungry"

"Well then, you're in luck. Come on in." Lora smiled and stepped out of the doorway. She had made breakfast, a simple affair of sliced fruit, toasted bread, and caff, which Loc hurriedly drank. After eating, they went to the control room, formerly an extra bedroom which Lora had converted to her needs.

When Loc first entered, he could see nothing except the bright glare from ten massive computer screens stacked on a massive semicircular desk in an otherwise dark room. Once his eyes adjusted, he noticed that the room was quite cluttered, with piles of wires, pieces of metal, empty food containers, crumpled papers, and other miscellaneous junk piled in all four corners. He saw the little Suva, wired into a computer, sitting on one end of the massive desk. Currently, it held the Hau he had been using, with the other random masks the pair had been able to purchase crammed haphazardly onto a nearby shelf.

Lora walked up beside him and noticed his glance at the Suva, and smiled. "Can I have my mask back? Yours is on the desk." She beckoned to it, lying face down next to the Suva. Loc grinned sheepishly and made a quick swap, handing Lora the Kakama. She turned her back and did the same, then put up the Kaukau. "So, do you have any ideas on how to beat Zwarm?"

Loc shook his head. "Well, I thought about magnetism, stick him together so he can't use his main advantage, but I don't know any plants with magnetism powers. Other than that, I have no idea."

"Well, there are the Elemental Kanohi, but they're rare. I could start searching. Personally, I thought about using something to break his concentration. He's one mind controlling thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of bodies. If he can't think, he's worthless. And, you do have a Komau, so that's one potential solution. I'm sorry that I didn't thing about that before he ran away." Lora went over to the desk, sat down, and began to search the networks for ideas.

Loc sighed. There was no talking to her when she was searching, he knew that from experience. Idly, he took off his costume and hung it neatly on the doorframe, and then began to clean the room. Whatever the solution was, he could at least do something useful while he waited.

===Day 52===

The city of Iri Nui buzzed like a hive of Nui Rama. No longer was discussion of the Gardener an event confined to the underworld. Every Toa on the street whispered rumors to their friends; every Toa had seen, or claimed to have seen, the tail of a brown cloak whipping around a corner. Little Matoran wore sheets and threw leaves at each other in the playgrounds of the Ga-Iri schools. The rumors reached the Turaga on the Retirement Island Paradise to the south, where they reminisced about how, in their day, the heroes were so much stronger, and didn't wear robes or hoods.

Rumor abounded, coalesced, grew until it was a force to be reckoned with. Petty criminals surrendered in droves, pledging to cease their erroneous deeds so as not to become, as they called it, "plant food." And yet, although everyone seemed to know that the Gardener was a force for good, the INSF, or Iri Nui Security Force, had a warrant for the identity of The Gardener, and a bounty for his capture. Perhaps part of it was that the gangs of drug dealers and mercenaries that plagued the City seemed to be growing stronger. Or, it might have been the withered vines that were found at the site of an attempted break-in at a Le-Vac United Bank, although the security guards swore that they were attacked by insects. Nobody quite believed them, and they were quietly shuffled into a calmer line of work.

But rumor about the Gardener was not the only news flying around the city. On the late-night, Suletu-based, talk shows, people told stories about being robbed blind with no evidence other than odd gnaw-marks on the insides of the locks. Homeless Toa claimed to have heard mechanical clanking inside alleyways, often coupled with the sound of arcing current. Parents told of children gibbering in the night about talking shadows. Everyone who believed these things knew that _something_ was happening, but those of a more skeptical nature, and those that knew that these shows often told similar stories, scoffed.

What no-one scoffed at were the mysterious murders. Often, there was nothing left of the victim except little chunks of pitted armor and a cracked Kanohi. There had been five, one each for the past five days, and rumor had it, (once again, on late-night talk shows), that the INSF was covering up more. Everyone knew that the Chronicler's News Network had abruptly stopped covering the cases, so the government MUST have been involved, right?

At eight o'clock in the evening, every single telescreen in the vast city of Iri Nui turned itself on. Every where anybody looked, they could see the image of a grumpy, irritable-looking Toa of Ice, wearing a wrinkled Rau that displayed, rather plainly, that he was due to become a Turaga in a matter of months. Despite his advanced age, however, he stood up straight behind a podium with the symbol of Unity, Duty, and Destiny embossed on it in silver. This Toa was the Leader of Iri Nui, elected from among the Council, the governing body, consisting of one Toa from each of the fifteen elemental districts of the city. His name, like the names of the many previous Leaders, was unknown to the populace.

He looked around, as if checking to see if everyone in his vast, invisible audience was paying attention, and then cleared his throat. "Citizens of Iri Nui! You have all seen the news reports, that the murder rate is skyrocketing, that crime in general is on the rise, that exotic villains have infiltrated our great city. You have trembled in fear of the legends, tall tales, if you will, that have been spread by rumormongers in our media. I am appearing today to tell you that, although our city does have problems, they are not as horrible as the rumors would make it seem. I am here today, to put a _stop_," He beat the podium with his fist, growing more passionate with every word "to the outrageous excesses presented by our out-of-control Chroniclers, who only tell the bad news and leave out the good: our fair city is prospering! I am standing here, telling you that, although we mourn those that are not with us due to crime, we should not allow the fear of crime to keep this island from prospering! Our brave Toa in the Security Forces are dealing with the crime spree."

The Leader calmed down and sipped a glass of water. "However, I must warn you that, if you are seen as doing anything remotely suspicious, you will be arrested. If you should prove innocent, you will be released and compensated generously for our error. If not….then the city will be safer without you in it." Glancing around once again, the Leader stepped down from behind the podium, and all the view screens turned themselves off. Very few people realized the implications of the Leader's decisions.

===Day 53===

The Leader sat up abruptly, the fine silk sheets on his bed sliding down his elderly body. He felt…unusual…, like he had been in a walking dream for decades, nearly a century in duration. He often felt like this in the morning, after real, restless dreams of horrible eyes and disturbing, whispering voices. He pushed himself out of bed, slowly staggered over to an opulent mirror, and looked into its crystalline recesses, seeking for the truth of his existence and purpose. He saw a haggard, almost offensively aged Kop-Toa, wearing a wrinkled Great Rau that was almost imperceptibly crooked… like him. He straightened it, and his seven hundred ninety-nine years seemed to pour off of him like melted ice into the basin before him. The image in the mirror still appeared the same, but his lethargy, his decrepit weakness, and his elderly indecision disappeared, replaced by alertness, strength, and resolve. The Leader, by status and attitude this time, walked to the door of his opulent bedroom, and left.

An hour later, the Leader threw open the double doors of the magnificent Council Chamber, swirling his white cloak around his shoulders. Two Suletu-clad guards, one on either side of the doorway, snapped to attention. The nine Toa seated around the crescent-shaped Council table stood up in respect as he moved towards the seat in the central cut-out, subtly taller than the other chairs to create an effect of prominence. As the Leader sank into his seat, the others took their places as well. The Leader grabbed a gavel, and, rapping it on the table, spoke. "The meeting is now called to order. The Minister of Security will now take the floor."

The barrel-chested Ta-Toa sitting directly in front of the Leader stood up, his crimson Elda radiating an aura of calm. "Sir, I would like to report that the new security measures instituted by this council are on their way to fruition. As we speak, my security teams are moving in on the illegal establishments indicated by the Minister of Commerce. My commanders report that the morale of their troops is high, but I think that that could change when we move to the next stage of this operation. We have not found any suspects with unusual abilities, but we have the AVAK device if we find any…if it works." He finished with a sneer at the Minister of Research, a chunky, nearsighted Toa of Gravity who jumped up in a rage.

"It will work, I assure you! You have no justification for making such accusations! You saw the tests on that hive-mind Skakdi, how can you deny the power of the AVAK device?" The Minister was practically quivering with indignation.

"That Zwarm," Sneered the Minister of Security, "has no real offensive weapons. I don't know what the Brotherhood did to him, but they seem to have forgotten to enable him to do anything other than buzz around and gnaw on things. I only wish that we had his source…" The Minister's Kanohi held an expression of faint regret. "He would have been more useful for our purposes."

"Enough speculation. The point is that we are well on our way to our ultimate goal. You may be seated, Ministers." The Leader waved a hand in dismissal. A quivering gold hand raised at the end of the table. "Ah, I see the Minister of Communication wishes to have the floor. Very well, let us hear what you have to say."

The handsome Toa of Light at the end of the Counsel table stood up slowly. His Miru, usually creased in a luminescent grin, was somber. He rubbed his hands together nervously. "Leader, I wish to protest the block that you have placed on the Chroniclers. It seems to me that this would incite even more rebellion and distrust than if we were to feed them false information – which we were already doing." His hands shook, and he clasped them tightly behind him. "What I'm saying is that it might be best to reconsider. I have several stories here that could explain the deaths…if you want to see them." He picked up a folder and made to pass it to the Leader, but it was intercepted by a fireball from the Minister of Security. The Minister of Communication gasped, and cradled his scorched right hand as the other Ministers laughed.

"While I appreciate your concern, Minister," said the Leader, "I assure you that this is the best course of action. You will see. Now _sit down_." The last words came out in a growl.

"Y-Yes Sir. I will continue according to your instructions." The whimpering minister made to sit down, but he was interrupted by one of the guards.

"He lies." All heads whipped around to see the placid, red Suletu of the Security Toa. It was glowing faintly. "He is planning to instruct his primary Chroniclers to drop hints. He is also contemplating which assassin he can use to get rid of the Minister of Security."

"Well, I would have thought that he would have known by now to control his _thoughts_." The Minister of Security growled, his Elda creased in a fierce grin. "This isn't the first time he's gotten in trouble. May I suggest that his department get a budget deduction?"

The Leader nodded. "Make it so. Include his personal salary. I trust that he has nothing more to say – or think." The Toa of Light shook his head. "Good. In that case, I believe that the Minister of Information has some interesting things to reveal about the search for the Rogue Toa of Plant-life affectionately referred to by the populace as the Gardener."

A plump Onu-Toa stood up, shuffling his notes. "As we all know, the Gardener made contact with our…agent…several days ago, meeting with a resounding failure. As such, we have been monitoring Net activity regarding the known or suspected weaknesses of our agent, in an attempt to determine the location of the suspect. This search had limited success, as the agent in question has a rather…unusual weakness." He smiled wolfishly.

"So, in light of that, we exposed the agent to a control group of forty prisoners who were told to guess his weaknesses. We eliminated the ones used by the Gardener against our agent, and wound up with about ten different solutions – all wrong, incidentally – that we used as our monitoring parameters. In the past few days, only one Net user has consistently searched for those solutions. As I understand it, an elite squad of INSF troops will be apprehending her in the next few hours."

The Minister of Commerce and Finances, a middle-aged Ga-Toa, interrupted him. "Wait, the Gardener's a female? I had understood that all the reports stated that the Gardener was male."

"Then the reports were wrong. Perhaps she is excessively masculine, but she is definitively not a male. There are no such things as male Toa of Plant-life." The Minister of Information replied, smirking.

In the gale of laughter, no one noticed the gleam of light in the eyes of the Minister of Communication, or the thought hurriedly shoved below the surface, where the guards could not reach it.

===Day 53, 5:00 PM===

A shriek on his earpiece nearly caused Loc to swerve his bike into a passing freight truck as he zipped through the streets of the Hub in pursuit of an escaping mugger. "Loc, get here, now! The Eseffs are here! I need help; I can only hold them off for a little while! I'm sending the Kakama now! Please get here!" Lora was shrieking, frightened nearly out of her wits.

"I'm coming! Just calm down. I'll be there." Loc set his bike to autopilot, felt the familiar shape of the Kakama settle onto his face, then leapt off the bike onto the side of a skyscraper, his legs already a blur as he zoomed horizontally through the maze of streets and buildings that was the center of residence and government of the City. He shot into the Hub to Le-Vac Chute Station, leapt onto the top of the chute and continued running, the seconds seeming like minutes as he rushed to the rescue of his friend – but she was more than that, he realized. The pumping of his legs cleared his mind for the revelation, but he fell off the chute in surprise, although the residual magnetic field held him, still running, to the bottom of the tube, his head barely missing the top of the waves. He dodged a support and contemplated his mind racing like his heart and metabolism, his new relationship with Lora.

She had been little more than a friend and co-worker until he had become the Gardener, but now, as he was faced with losing her….he almost couldn't bear it. He had faintly hoped that, by assuming names, he and Lora would evade unwholesome interest, but that was not to be, apparently. He glanced at his wristwatch, and noticed that ten seconds had passed. _Not fast enough_, he thought, and pressed harder on the speed, knowing that he would regret it later. He was only a quarter of the way there, and the INSF was sure to have a trooper with a Pakari.

He zoomed off the chute in Le-Vac Sector, knowing that he had to cross this sector in less than a minute. He ran up a building with a decorative incline, shooting hundreds of bio into the air into the air. A thought, and his leaf-wings unfurled, and he began to kick rapidly, shooting through the air like a racing airship. It took only seconds to cross halfway across the sector, but circumstances were against him.

With the enhanced senses and reflexes granted by the kakama, he saw Zwarm speeding towards him from half a mio away, but there was nothing he could do about it. It seemed like it took forever for Zwarm to reach him, but he heard the horrible, buzzing voice of his enemy long before the insects reached him

"_You can't getzzz away, tazzzty Toa._"

Loc tried to increase his speed, but it was no use. _Figures, _he thought, _that Zwarm would pick the worst possible moment. I can't afford to lead him to Lora, but I can't fight him here._ "I don't have time, locust, maybe some other time!" He called, knowing that it was hopeless.

"_Zzzo Zzzzorry, Gardener, but I inzzzzizzzzt._" The amorphous swarm seemed to smile in slow motion as it engulfed Loc, and devoured the leaf glider. Loc began to fall, but he managed to kick fast enough to stay aloft, although he had no forward momentum. His increased reflexes showed him the sadistic-seeming mandibles of each individual insect. They almost seemed like shrunken, grey Nui-Rama, but he had no idea about how that was relevant. He began to act almost before he got the idea. Using the Kakama, he began to spin his arms in tight circles, creating vortexes almost instantly, which sucked up Zwarm and sent him careening out of control, screaming in rage. Loc directed the vortexes, keenly aware that every second counted, at a nearby chute, spreading his enemy across fifteen bio of magnetic walls, unable to reform his unity. Ten thousand voices screamed disharmonious invectives, but Loc was already zipping away on regrown glider wings.

He glanced at his watch. The entire fight had taken thirty seconds. On his earpiece, he heard a slam, a shriek, and a gruff voice yelling. "Lora, you are under arrest for disturbing the peace, numerous traffic violations, destruction of government property, breaking and entering with intent to commit theft, and vigilantism. You have the right to confess now, the right to an unfair trial, and the right to not have an attorney." There was the sound of a scuffle, and then the earpiece went unnaturally silent.

_They…they thought she was me…_ Loc thought in anguish. _I might never see her again. I'll never be able to tell her that I love her…_

His tortured scream of anguish and fury echoed all over the district as he dropped like a stone, robbed of all desire to live.

===Day 53, 5:05 PM===

As he plummeted, mind dazed, emotions burned out by his anguish at the loss of a part of his heart, Loc mentally spread his arms and welcomed the sweet embrace of Death. He desired to die, end his agony, his heart ache, but, abruptly, knew he could not. Loc realized that he needed to avenge Lora, free her if she could be freed, but avenge her. It was nearly too late, but an elemental concentration caused the trees on either side of the street that stretched out beneath him to reach out strong branches to cease his fall and lower him gently to the ground. The passersby stared. Loc felt exposed: this was the first time he had actually been out in public when he wasn't stopping a crime. He felt like he should say something, something to tell the citizens that there was inherently wrong with the city, but he didn't know what to say…. _Ah, well, nothing will be said if I don't speak up, _he thought.

"Toa of Iri Nui!" he yelled. More people turned to look at the brown-robed figure that had plummeted out of the sky like a meteorite. "You all saw the broadcast made by the Leader of our city yesterday. What you don't know is that, when he says that Toa that look suspicious will be apprehended, he means every single one of us: you, me, the Toa next to you. Just now, I was stopped from rescuing a Toa who was arrested for _unusual net searches_ by an entity who wished to kill me. Why would a prosperous, safe city need to arrest a powerless, beautiful Toa of Plant-life? It wouldn't need to, that's why."

Loc could tell he was making an impact, but what it was, he could not determine. He decided to kick it up a notch. "As Toa, we are the possessors of a proud heritage. Our ancestors are counted among the great, remembered today in the histories and stories of our past. Who here has not heard of the Noble Toa, Tahu Nuva, or of the wisdom of Matoro, Wielder of the Mask of Life? There is probably a Toa here descended from the likes of Lewa, or Kongu. Our heritage is that of Heroism, resistance to evil. Will we sit idle while the Leader arrests our sisters? We must stand, be proud of our status as Toa, and cast down the corrupt government!"

A stone hit his ribs. "The Leader is keeping us safe!" someone shouted from among the crowd. Cries of assent, and more projectiles, joined the speaker. Loc was forced to run, head covered, out of the street, out of his fifteen minutes of infamy. He darted, tears building in his eyes for the death of chivalry and heroism among the Toa.

_If I hadn't insisted on becoming the stupid Gardener, this wouldn't have happened! Why wasn't I happy with my own life, my mundane destiny? I brought this upon myself_, he thought. Loc found his footsteps leading out of Le-Vac District, into the idyllic Green Zone, so recently shattered by violence. He slowly walked onward, not noticing the strange looks of passersby or the beautiful scenery.

He discovered that his sorrowful path took him to Lora's house, the front door lying, torn off the hinges, inside the entrance hallway. He walked through the disarray caused by searching police, until he came to the door of the Control Room. The door was leaning against the opposite wall of the darkened room, crushed metal and information disks scattering the floor. The computers were gone, the monitors cracked and black. He faintly saw that the Suva on the desk was split in half. The Kanohi were gone. In their place were the powerless versions, Matoran's versions, children's versions. He picked up the Komau, making to put it on his face, but he stopped.

_I'm wearing her Kakama, very nearly her identity. I should keep wearing it, to remember her._ The empty eyes of the Kanohi in his hand seemed to stare reproachfully into his own. Abruptly, Loc picked up a piece of wire from the floor and tied the Kanohi onto his right shoulder. To his left, he attached the Kaukau. The Hau and Kiril were attached to his chest. _Memories in carved protodermis. Reasons for vengeance. They wished to mock me, discourage me. They did not. A new resolve is mine, a new idea is mine, and dominion will soon stop being theirs._

He walked out the door, and activating his Kakama, sprinted away into the sunset.

===Day 54, 1:00 AM===

Lora awoke to a horrid stench. At first she thought someone was using smelling salts, but when she saw the enormous, grinning, greenish-white teeth filling her blurred vision, she knew better.

"Good grief!" She shrieked, and scrabbled to push herself backwards across the cold, concrete floor. Her back touched the far wall far too soon. She glanced around the tiny, forbidding room, noting the shimmering force fields on the doors and window. She was in a cell, trapped with - she glanced at her cell mate - a distinctly malodorous brown Skakdi. He was leering at her, almost hungrily. "I hear you brush your teeth with Rahkshi, monster," Lora said, although she could not keep her voice from trembling, "but maybe you should switch varieties. I could have sworn you were using Rahkshi of halitosis."

The Skakdi grinned widely. "Feisty. I like that." Lora could not repress a shudder. "But it would be best to stay on my good side. After all, you're stuck here - and I can rebuild you into a rocket launcher. You would find it most excruciating." The grin grew wider. "What are you here for?"

Lora, still trying to keep as far away from her companion as possible, grudgingly explained. "I made some unwise Net searches. The INSF nabbed me. You?"

The Skakdi grinned. "I bumped off a couple of rich Toa for their masks. The INSF would have killed me, except for what I did to about fifteen members of the squad." He appeared to concentrate, and a sphere popped into existence around Lora. She pounded her fists on it, desperate to get out, afflicted with a desperate sense of claustrophobia. The sphere vanished abruptly, leaving her panting on the floor. "Huh. I would have expected more. You're powerless, aren't you?" Lora nodded. "Anyway, the INSF Commander of that time decided I'd be useful. I've been here for..." He paused, looking thoughtful, before continuing. "three hundred and fifteen years, four months, two weeks, one day, five hours, eleven minutes, and... ten seconds."

"How – How did you do that?" Lora asked. She did not particularly like the Skakdi, although he seemed friendly enough, albeit abusive.

"Beats me. I used to claim it was a Brotherhood experiment, but as far as I know, they never touched me. I'm a little surprised you didn't recognize me from your history textbook. I fought the Toa Nuva on the island of Voya Nui approximately… seventy-three thousand, four hundred and fifty six years, three months, and five days ago." The Skakdi smirked and shrugged. "Kids these days."

"No – You – you're Avak!" Lora ran screaming for the door, running into the force-field, mere inches away from freedom from the infamous Piraka. She couldn't remember what his powers, other than the prison sphere ability, were, although she seemed to remember that there were rather a lot of them. "Keep away from me!"

Avak grinned. She could see the plague between his teeth. "Relax. We have common interests, you and I. We both wish to get out of here; and we both wish to see the fall of those that imprisoned us." He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Wait, I never said that. What makes you think I oppose the government?" Lora turned from the impassable door to look at her grinning cell-mate.

"Well, you are here, after all." Avak waved an arm around the cell, seeming to indicate the entire cell block. "This is the Center of Social Stability, better known to the inhabitants as:" He glanced at her craftily, "The Dissidents' Prison."

Lora shook her head in disbelief. "W_hy am I here?_" She thought. "_I didn't do anything against the law._" Her silent questions were answered by the crackling hiss of the forcefield blocking the doorway deactivating. Two burly Ta-Toa barged in, clad in black body armor and armed with stun-staves.

The taller of the two, his Kanohi Suletu creased in a twisted grin that put Avak to shame spoke, as his partner backed the Piraka into a corner. "Prisoner Lora, you will accompany us. Resistance by thought or action will be interpreted as grounds for self defense."

'I'm coming." Lora said quietly. She meekly held out her wrists for the Security Toa's proffered restraints. For an instant, she thought of using her Kanohi, a Komau at the moment, but realized that it was powerless. Sighing, she followed the first guard out of the room. The second guard, shorter but wider than the first, closed the force-field and took up the rear.

She heard Avak's parting cry faintly muffled by the energy in the doorway. "Come back now, y'hear!"

They walked through what seemed like miles of grey hallways, the only features in the walls the doors of the cells. Sneering, gaping Toa of all elements and body types shot jeers and cat-calls at her. Even the lone male Vortix called out something derisive in his language. Lora could feel her mask heating up with shame. It was far too long before they came to a pair of thick, metal double doors, which opened silently, spilling harsh white light into the corridor. All the prisoners fell silent. The only sounds were Lora's sobs and her guards' snickering. They shoved her into the bright, hostile room, and the doors slammed shut behind her.

Lora was caught by three pairs of strong, rough hands, and she was carried, kicking and screaming, to a cold, metal table. She was strapped down, bands crossing her arms, legs, chest, holding her head still. A rough hand pulled her Kanohi off, and Lora felt even weaker and more defenseless. Electrodes were attached to her temples, her neck, and her chest. She felt blind, only able to see the brilliant light emanating from a lamp directly above her. Lora screamed, over and over, until someone slapped her with an oath.

She felt the table moving, rotating so that it was upright. A burly, middle aged Ta-Toa, with faint age-lines creasing his Elda walked forward, sneering. She could faintly see smaller Toa of indeterminate elements in white lab coats flitting around behind him, one with the signature crest of a Kanohi Rode. "Well, well, well. What have we here? A little Toa, trying to be a hero, I see. Thought you could do a better job than the INSF, did you?" the Toa's voice was gruff and unfriendly.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Please let me go!" Lora pleaded.

The Ta-Toa smirked. "Oh, you don't? I would have thought that 'the gardener' knew exactly what she was doing." Lora gasped. "Surprised that we caught you? You shouldn't be. You were being stupid, a foolish little Matoran that thought that the world can be a brighter place. You thought that we didn't control the network? You thought that we weren't watching everyone? You were wrong." He beckoned to one of the hovering technicians behind him, who wheeled forward a cart with an electrical control box on it. The interrogator smiled at Lora.

"here's what we're going to do. I will ask you a question. If you answer incorrectly, or lie, you will be…punished. Here we go: Are you the Gardener?"

"No." Lora spat.

"Wrong." Her interrogator pulled a switch on the machine next to him.

Lora's scrams of pain echoed thorough the prison.

===Day 55===

A Zamor filled with tear gas shot past Loc's shoulder as he zoomed through the back alleys of the Electricity District on his hover bike. Arcs of bright current jumped between the towering spires on either side of the narrow alleyway that was his escape route. Still in the guise of the Gardener, he had been trying to find Zwarm in an attempt to bring him to justice, when he had been intercepted by an INSF patrol. Apparently, even though he was supposedly in custody, according to a telecast only ten minutes before, the Eseffs had decided he was 'suspicious.' It probably had something to do with the Matoran Kanohi he had wired to this armor. "_Maybe that wasn't the _best _idea…_" he thought.

Loc swerved around a corner, weaving between rancid hobos and filthy street bums who were too stupid or drunk on cheap acids to get out of the way. He heard the distinct sound of stun-net launchers, and knew that there would be significantly fewer inhabitants in this alley later. Up ahead, he saw the border leading to the Mag District, saw the tall grey buildings climbing into the sky and the sidewalks traveling vertically up their sides. He hoped he could lose his pursuers in the dense streets.

Suddenly, everything changed. At the same moment, a Kanoka disk with the Weaken ability hit the power pack on his bike, and a strange Toa leapt out of the shadows in a darkened alleyway. Loc saw a brief glint of light off burnished metal as the stranger charged the three Security bikes behind him. "Don't hurt them!" he yelled, desperately trying to bring his underpowered vehicle to a non-catastrophic stop.

"Do not worry. I will not harm them." The stranger replied, in an oddly metallic monotone. As Loc brought the hover-bike to a skidding stop on the pavement, he heard a crackling hiss of current and a brief scream that was cut off in the middle. Turning around, he saw that the three INSF officers were trapped, looks of surprise on their immobile faces, in a crackling yellow-blue sphere.

"What did you do?" Loc walked up to the sphere, leaning up close to peer at the membrane. He glanced at the figure that had saved him, and recoiled. The being was tall, but lumpy and misshapen. His right arm was a vast robotic appendage with odd, curling, segmented tubes crawling towards a box grafted onto his back, although his left was in the classic yellow and blue armor of a Toa of Electricity. The silver Kanohi, a Pakari, had a telescopic eyepiece and microphone crudely welded onto the right side. Burnished metal plates and pistons covered the torso and double-articulated legs of his savior. "What _are_ you?"

"I am Tech, a cyborg constructed by _them_." Tech indicated the INSF troopers, still trapped in their prison sphere. "They are trapped in a device of their own making, known to them as the AVAK Device. The device seems to detect the weakness of its target, and create a containment sphere specifically tailored to that weakness. It appears that for these Toa, a charge of electricity will paralyze them. A useful gadget, is it not, Gardener?"

Loc smiled in thanks. "I agree. That could be useful. You seem to have a grudge against the INSF." To himself, he thought "_This guy knows my codename. I didn't know that I was that famous…_"

"My analysis indicates that that was the understatement of the year. The INSF captured me months ago. I was a Toa of electricity, which made me ideally suited for their…experiments with cybernetics technology, as I provided a natural power source. Now, it nearly seems that I have no element, as all my energy goes into powering my… enhancements." Tech slammed his non-augmented fist into the metal plating on his chest, in something that almost resembled cold affection. "The enhancements are useful, however. I do not particularly mind the loss of my element. Why were the INSF pursuing you?"

"Apparently, they do not approve of vigilantism. I do have a more personal reason for fighting the government now, though. The INSF captured a Toa to whom I felt personally responsible, because she was trying to help me." Loc had to fight back a tear. "I think we could work well together. Do you want to help put the Council back on the right track?"

"It would bring me great pleasure, Gardener." Tech beamed, his brilliant smile crackling with little arcs of current. Loc noticed that one side of his jaw has a piston instead of muscles activating it.

Loc nodded in gratitude. "Now, where is the AVAK Device… I could use that…" He looked around, but could find no piece of technology he could not recognize. He heard Tech chuckling coldly behind him.

"You already have the AVAK Device."

Loc was a little perplexed. "What do you mean?"

Plates of metal on his torso shifted, and a large muzzle poked out. Loc could see dozens of wires and tubes connected to the cylinder vanishing into Tech's interior.

Tech shrugged. "I am the AVAK Device."

High above the city, on the top of the tallest tower in the Le-Vac district, a solitary figure stood silhouetted against the moon. It raised a fist and shook it at the glowing orb, then silently melted into a simple shadow, sliding down the curved, graceful spire. The shadow knew what it needed…

Solara hurried down the dim alleyway in the Le-Vac district, barely able to keep absolute darkness away with her weak elemental ability. She was late, and needed to get home. The Toa of light was rather plain, but her cheerful attitude meant that she had many friends. "_oh, why didn't I take the chute home tonight? I _hate_ the dark…_" she thought.

Solara didn't notice the stream of pitch-black shadows approaching her glowing form. It wavered slightly when it reached the brightest area around her, just behind her feet, but pushed on, making contact with her heel. She stopped, unable to move a muscle, screaming inside. Her elemental exertion stopped, and a shadow slithered around from behind her and stood up off of the ground. It mimicked her silhouette before slowly grinning with a jagged, slashed-cloth smile that showed the street behind it. **So… A pitiful excuse for a Toa of light… You are just a Matoran in disguise, but perfectly suited for my purposes… Don't worry; you won't feel a thing.** Solara tried to scream, but the shadow held her perfectly still as the silhouette aligned itself on her body and fused with her. Her last conscious thought before the jagged smile consumed her was: "_It spoke to my mind!_"

Day 56, 3:00 AM

It turned out that Loc's hover-bike had only enough battery strength to hover microns above the pavement, so Loc and Tech had to push it to a powerstation, well over forty mio away from their meeting place. The scrawny Electricity Toa who acted as the attendant at the station eyed his two unusual customers warily, but he was placated by the hefty tip given to him by Tech, who produced it out of a thigh compartment. The attendant didn't notice the dumpy, unattractive female Av-Toa with four flat black eyes staring out of her Akaku standing behind him, holding a dagger. The last sight to hit his eyes before all went black was the neat pile of one-hundred-widget notes disappearing into a golden hand.

Loc rode his hover-bike through the streets of the Magnetism District, this time accompanied by an ally. He glanced over at Tech, who flew along beside the bike, propelled by small jets that had emerged from behind mobile plates on his legs. "How did you escape the ISNF, Tech?"

Tech spoke without looking at him. "I died." His Pakari was grim; the memory was not a pleasant one. "I was able to patch a small capacitor and processor into my body, attached to my heart. Upon my mental command, it would forcibly stop my heart, and then restart it a number of hours later. I had seen that dead prisoners were put, unmolested, into the morgue immediately after their death. My observations indicated that it would take approximately an hour for the guards to realize that I had reached my demise. I also had the fortuitous circumstance of being forced to carry, under guard, one of my former prisoners who had decided to end his stay with a home-made noose to the morgue, enabling me to record the layout of his temporary resting place. At the time, I did not have all of my modifications; I had little more than the AVAK device, my eyepiece, and my right arm. Luck was with me. Soon after my preparations were complete, I was taken into surgery, where they removed my legs and replaced them with robotic, metal ones. They did not use anesthesia."

Loc grimaced, but Tech did not notice. "After they finished attaching the last component, I managed to activate my little device. Dying was even worse than the surgery. I felt stuffy, unable to breath. My heat felt like it was clutched in the claw of a Makuta. It was…horrible. I blacked out. When I awoke, I was in a tiny cylinder, lying on a cold metal table. I was alive again. It was a matter of moments before I had effected my escape. Fortunately, my captors had installed this little doodad: a vibroblade." Tech held up his robotic arm, and a long, broad dagger popped out of his forearm with a snap. It hummed slightly, and the edges seemed to blur. Tech retracted the dagger. "They did not expect one of the morgue's residents to dislike his new quarters. I killed two guards, and escaped over the wall without being detected. They knew I was gone, but I was able to avoid or eliminate pursuit. I have been hiding for two weeks."

Loc was lost for words. He felt his emotional suffering paled in comparison to what his new friend had gone through, but when he realized that the INSF might do similar things to Lora, he shuddered. He didn't want her to be replaced by cold metal.

"Stop! Please! I'll confess!" Lora screamed, her back arching from the pain, her wrists and legs straining in the heavy restraints that bound her to the metal table, slick with her sweat and blood. Her skin had numerous scratches, her un-masked face covered with blood from a cut above her right eye.

Her torturer, a burly Ta-Toa wearing an Elda, grinned evilly. His white lab coat was covered with her blood, crimson in the bright light of the room. "Oh, you will? Are you sure? Do you need any more…persuasion?"

"No…No… I'll confess. I…am…" Lora gasped, fighting to tell a lie for herself and for Loc. "I… am the Gardener." She slumped against the table. The Rode of one of the lab assistants glowed, and its wearer frowned, but Lora's torturer didn't notice.

"I see." The Ta-Toa was grim now, obviously regretting that his fun must end. "Take her away." He beckoned to the two largest lab assistants, more thugs than scientists, and they moved toward the table.

They were preceded by the Rode-wearer, who swiftly jabbed her in the neck with a needle. "You lied…" he whispered as he bent over her, his lips obscured from the cameras in the ceiling. "But only at the end. I believe you. I will see what I can do. This drug will mask the pain." He pulled away, his expression blank. Lora blacked out as her powerless mask was shoved roughly onto her face.

Lora was awakened, once again, by the foul breath of her cellmate, the former Piraka named Avak. She shoved him away weakly; his armor was laced with scars. "Honestly, you have got to stop doing that!"

Avak backed away and grinned sheepishly. It was darker than before, and his teeth seemed to gleam. "Sorry… I was worried. They were working on you for about fifty hours."

"What, no seconds?"

Avak's grin grew wider. "I wasn't there. If I had been, I would have done something. I'm not the Avak from your textbooks. These Esseffs are more Piraka than I am." He spat.

Lora felt a surge of pity. "Yeah. Apparently, they thought I was the Gardener. I finally confessed, falsely, to stop the pain." She shuddered. "It was horrible."

Avak stared at her, his eyes burning brightly. Lora felt as if he was staring into her soul. "You're lucky," he said. "You only have one broken rib. Most of the others had at least three broken. You're tougher than you look."

"Others?"

"Fifteen. Most of them disappeared after about a month. Some died." Avak looked a little sad. He strode over to the bunk opposite Lora and sat down, holding his head in his hand. "I've been alone for far too long."

Lora could find nothing to say, so she pushed herself off of the bed, walked over and sat down beside Avak, putting an arm over his shoulder, weaving between the spikes of the Skakdi's spine.

Avak began to talk again. "You know, I never was the strongest of the Piraka. I was the one that stayed in the base and tinkered with weapons, while the others went and made raids. When I went along, I was always in the rear, because I could not fight well. I have x-ray and thermal vision, not impact or heat vision. I can't really do anything offensive other than using my stone powers, and to use those, I need another Skakdi. In retrospect, becoming one of the…Piraka was the worst mistake I ever made. I regret that with all my heart." Avak began to chuckle. "But I sure would have liked to have seen it if those Esseffs tried to capture Reidak. That would have been amusing." The Skakdi sighed. "But he's dead now. As far as I know, all of them are dead. I am the Last Piraka, and I'm afraid I have some more Toa to kill."

Lora's arm slid off Avak's back as he straightened up. She smiled as close to evilly as she could manage. "I think I might help."

A white and gold female figure stepped out of the shadows immediately in front of Loc and Tech, forcing them to stop quite abruptly. "Lady, that's not the best idea. Someone less observant might have hit you!" Loc shouted.

The Av-Toa looked up and smiled, showing that the four eyes peering out of her Akaku were flat black. **You would have died before you contacted my host.** Her words echoed soundlessly in Loc's mind. Slowly, she raised a cupped hand. A ball of light formed and swirled in her hand. **I have been commissioned to destroy you, Gardener, a commission from your own Leader. I have never failed.** She hurled the ball of light straight at Loc's chest.

Day 56, 3:30 AM

The glowing sphere hurtled towards Loc at an incredible rate, but Loc was faster. With the aid of his – Lora's – Kakama, Loc leapt off his bike and twisted sideways to avoid the projectile. It exploded against a trash bin far behind him, sending concentrated bursts of light everywhere. Loc did not dodge the ball of pure shadow that bounced out of the explosion. It hit him square in the back, cracking his armor and scorching a hole in his cloak. Loc slid for several bio along the pavement. He groaned; it felt like he had broken a couple of interior support struts.

Loc heard the hum of Tech's vibroblade, then a grunt as a muffled explosion echoed through the alley. He rolled over painfully, grabbing his quarterstaff off of his back. A thought, and its wooden core sprang to life in his grasp, sprouting serrated leaves from both ends. He pushed himself to his feet. Tech was lying on the ground, right shoulder smoking from a black crater in the metal. His Pakari was twisted in a grimace of pain. The Av-Toa smiled fiercely as she blew a curl of smoke off of her index finger. **This body has its advantages** she said. **Perhaps I will obtain a more powerful specimen, in time.**

Suddenly, Loc saw a sphere pop into existence around the Toa, and he knew that Tech had triggered the AVAK Device. He almost began to gloat, but the Toa simply walked through the wall of the sphere, smirking. **You can't hold me like that, cyborg.** She pointed a finger directly at Tech's unaugmented left eye. A beam of concentrated light shot out of the tip, but Loc was moving, hurling a seed which sprouted into a small plant with faintly glowing bulbs on the tips of its vines. The light beam hit the plant, and was absorbed. The plant grew a little brighter, and took root in front of Tech, the bulbs waving like lightstones in the hands of Matoran at a concert.

Loc charged, spinning his staff, but his opponent blocked the leaf-blade with a small dagger. They continued, striking, parrying, little flicks of organic material flying off of the leaf-blades before regenerating, sparks soaring from the dagger when it impacted the metal sheathing of the staff. "_She's good, but it almost seems like she's fighting like a puppet. She doesn't watch my movements; she just reacts to them. It's like this Av-Toa is possessed…and I got hit by a shadow ball earlier, so whatever possesses her is a creature of shadow. She's fairly weak, element wise – she's only attacked elementally three times, so that puts her at about her limit, from the shade of her Kanohi… Got it._" Loc's thoughts reached an abrupt climax. "Tech!" he shouted, "Generate as much light as you can, and channel it into that plant!"

He heard Tech's grunt of assent, and brilliant white light cast a stark glare over the alley from leaping arcs of current. **Light? You mean to attack me with light? You're dumber than you look, Gardener.** His opponent's telepathic voice sounded incredulous.

"Nope, I'm smarter." The light flickered out, but the waving light plant was glowing brightly, nearly impossible to look at. "NOW!" The plant swiveled it's bulbs to point directly at the Av-Toa, and released a blinding burst of light that caught her straight in the chest.

She screamed, a high-pitched keening that set Loc's teeth on edge and echoed in his head. The light seemed to fill her for an instant, before simply passing through her like water though a filter. A black shape burst out of her back, propelled by the light, and slammed against the back of the alley, sliding down to make a two dimensional silhouette spread-eagled on the pavement. The light plant crumbled, its energy utterly expended. The Av-Toa slowly wavered on her feet, and then collapsed to the ground. Loc rushed over to her. Her heartlight was black. He felt for a pulse, but it was in vain. She was dead. A glance showed that the shadow was still lying on the pavement, although it was stirring.

"Tech, can you contain that shadow?" Loc asked. A small sphere popped around the shadow, glowing brightly. "Thanks. Are you ok?" He turned to look at his comrade, and was shocked at how awful his friend looked. Besides the smoking crater in his right shoulder, Tech had horrendous scorch marks on his left hand and forearm, as well as carbon scoring on his metallic right arm. His heart-light beat irregularly.

"Power…" he croaked, "I need power…"

Loc ran to the hover-bike and grabbed the power-pack, then swiftly attached it to two loose wires in an opened torso compartment. Tech's heartlight stabilized, but then his eye closed in the sleep of the utterly exhausted. Loc sighed, the pain of his wounds reaching him through the ebbing tide of adrenaline. He quickly grew a pair of carnivorous plants to guard the pair, and then another plant to tend to his wounds, then swiftly drifted off to sleep as well. It felt like it had been days since he rested.

The Minister of Security wiped his hands on his bloody labcoat before entering the Leader's private office. He wanted to make this report in person. As he pushed open the doors, the Leader glanced up from some papers. "Well?"

"She confessed. I don't know if we actually convinced her, but she confessed. If we want her to look presentable for a public appearance, we really can't do much more than we have already. That female is remarkably resilient." The Minister of Security shook his head, almost in awe of her inner strength. "She lasted the longest of any I have worked on personally."

"That doesn't matter. Let her rest for a few days, and give her medical attention. I will arrange for the Minister of Communication to meet you for details. Now get out before you drip on the carpet." The Leader shuffled his papers and resumed their perusal. The meeting was over.

Day 56, 5:00 AM

"Comequick!"

"Whatwant?"

"FlashToa stonedead! Hasgot eyemask!"

"Well, swipetake eyemask. FlashToa notneed."

"Hey! Two other-more!"

"Whowhat?"

"One junkbin zaptoa, one browncloak."

"Browncloak? Whattype?"

"No-know. Lemme quickcheck!"

"Hurryfast. Notime for goofplay."

"Yessir, Bosstoran. Hey! Thisone pansytoa! Notta hotgirl! Is maletoa!"

"Shuttup, Brakasfool! Nosuch thing as pansyboy Toa!"

"No, forreal! Come quickcheck!"

"Huh. Istrue. Thisone couldmight be GardenerToa. Quickcheck, looksee if stonedead."

"hehe… quickpoke."

Loc felt a sharp finger jab into his side, adding pain to the annoying din of the chattering beings. He groaned, and tried to shoo off the nuisance. "Go 'way. Leave me alone."

The first voice, a high-pitched, nasal whine yelped in surprise. "quickhelp! Thisone undead! Don't letallow braineat!"

The sharp crack of a back-handed slap echoed across the alley. The second voice, deeper and more mature, followed it, creased with annoyance. "Brakasfool. ZombieToa only in scarebook, scaretale. Thistoa not undead, is livequick."

"sorry, Bosstoran. Whatdo?"

"Pindown zaptoa. I speaktalk to GardenerToa."

Just as Loc was beginning to tune out the voices, the sharp tip of a knife tickled his throat. "Wakeywake, GardenerToa. Isnot safeplace to sleepnap." Loc's eyes shot open, revealing a smirking, gunmetal Matatu. A stylized engraving of the head of a Kanohi Dragon on the right cheek seemed to glare at him.

"Please let me up. I do not wish to harm you." A grunt from Tech indicated that he was also unable to move.

"And I notwish to pokestick sharpknife through neck. No plantgrow, no maskuse, or you hurtbleed. Savvy?"

Loc almost nodded, remembered the knife, and said "yes." The mask nodded, and the knife moved away. Loc gingerly turned his head to look at his captor. It was a Mag-Matoran, confidently holding a long throwing knife. Loc saw at least three more knives on a bandoleer, as well as the curved hilts of two daggers poking over his back. The Matoran had a splash of brilliant silver on his left shoulder, which brightly contrasted with the red engraving of the dragon's tail, obviously a continuation of the dragon's head on his cheek. This Matoran didn't seem to be a child. It was nowhere near as awkward as even the oldest Matoran he had seen. He also seemed to carry a sense of maturity and bitterness well beyond his years.

"Who are you?" Loc asked.

The Matoran smiled. "I namecalled Malory, son of bravestrong Malek and Bosstoran of everbrave Dragon scoutsquad. Eversorry for the rudeawake, GardenerToa, but I notwant to growweeds. Want quickhelp? You and tincan zaptoa fastneed welddoctor."

Loc slowly pushed himself to his feet, feeling his body ache all over. "I think I'll take you up on that offer. My friend's name is Tech, and I think I can speak for both of us when I say thank you."

Malory grinned and adjusted his green headband. "Noproblem, GardenerToa. We gladhelp freefighters. You nolike DumbLeader and nosyesseffs, like us. We almost kinbrothers."

"Why do you dislike the government, Malory?"

Malory scowled. "Notime to quicktell. Quicktake to Taleweaver. He tellweave longstory of allus Throwbacks." He turned to his accomplice, still sitting on Tech's chest. "Getoff zaptoa, Shota. We quicktake to FirstOnes."

Grudgingly, Shota, a wiry Le-Matoran, clambered off Tech and stuck his knife back in his belt. Tech pushed himself off the ground and glanced at Loc. Loc nodded. "We're going."

It took several hours of pushing the powerless hoverbike through tight alleys to reach what Malory called the "Bikebin," a garage run by other members of the secret group of Matoran, apparently named the Throwbacks. After that, it took even more time to make their way to a sub-sub basement deep underneath the Hub of Iri Nui. Pairs of Matoran sentries began to halt their progress, eyeing Loc and Tech warily while immersed within unintelligible conversation with Malory and Shota. Finally, they reached a large pair of thick double doors. Malory stopped the group. "Through here," he whispered, "is the Chamber of the FirstOnes. They demand respect. Shota, don't use streetslang." Turning, Malory pushed open the double doors.

The chamber was small, with four comfortable-looking chairs on a raised platform at the end of the room. Shota, the last one through the doors, closed them quietly. A bell rang. A door on the raised platform opened, and three Matoran, incredibly old, shuffled in. They slowly sat down in the chairs, leaving the one on the far right unoccupied. The one on the left, a Ko-Matoran wearing a wrinkled Akaku, slowly fiddled with a dial on the scope of the eyepiece before speaking. "It happened as foretold, brothers." His voice was incredibly deep, and echoed with knowledge and wisdom. Loc noticed that he only had three fingers on his left hand

"You knew, Oracle?" Malory asked.

The Oracle nodded, slowly. "'_When the setting grows most bleak, and the Leader watches all, then a Toa Throwback will appear, to bring about the Leader's Fall._' We have waited for this day, Gardener. It was ordained by the stars."

Loc shook his head. "I'm a throwback? What does that mean?"

The Oracle smiled. "I am not the one to answer that question. Ask the Historian." He indicated the Matoran seated on the right, an Onu-Matoran so old that he appeared grey.

The Historian slowly pushed himself to his feet, leaning on a short staff. "Before we Matoran settled on this island city of Iri-Nui, there was the greater city of Metru-Nui, the City of Legends, protected by Legends. In that time, not every Matoran became a Toa. In fact, only a select few were chosen, touched with the finger of destiny. Every Toa was a hero, and some of the most heroic were the Toa of Plantlife. They fought evil, but when they were not, they worked constantly to improve their cities and make their charges happier. But, it was not to last. In the final spasms of death, the Brotherhood of Makuta stole every single Matoran and Toa of Plantlife, and destroyed them. It was their last act. The Great Spirit, Mata Nui, saw fit to replace them, but even he could not completely undo the damage. The last scrap of genetic material from a Matoran of Plantlife was not enough to create a whole one, so a single brave Ga-Matoran, who had loved one of the stolen Matoran, offered to give up her life to restore the race. The Matoran of Plantlife were restored, but different from before. The genetic influence of the Ga-Matoran meant that all Matoran of Plantlife from then on were female." The Historian smiled sadly.

Loc was speechless for a little bit. He found it extremely difficult to comprehend the new information. He had been taught – and taunted - in school that all Toa of Plantlife had been female since time immemorial. To hear that it was not the case was disturbing, but also a relief. Finally, he looked at the Historian again. "So…I'm like the old Toa of Plantlife?" The Historian nodded. "Than what should I do to complete my destiny?"

The Oracle pointed to the Matoran in the center. "It is not for us to tell you what to do. But, The Decider will tell us what is to be done with you and for you."

The Decider, a Ta-Matoran wearing an Elda, sat quietly for a moment, and then spoke. "He will be sheltered, repaired, and given any aid he requests, on the condition that he swears never to reveal our existence to the outside world and continues his defiance of the Leader."

"Thank you sir." Loc bowed, and then winced. His ribs still hurt. "May we leave?"

The Decider nodded. Loc bowed again, and then followed Malory out of the chamber. "I still don't understand something, Malory. Why is there a group of un-changed Matoran?"

"There is onelast FirstOne, the Taleweaver. He will storytell you, but muchlater. First, you quickneed welddoctor."

After seeing the 'welddoctor,' an Onu-Matoran with a blow-torch, Loc and Tech were taken to a large dining hall filled with Matoran of all ages, though none were as old as the FirstOnes. A vast majority of the younger Matoran were chattering in streetslang. Loc noticed that many of the Matoran also had injuries. One young Ga-Matoran in particular, no older than ten years old, was missing the entire lower half of her body. She spotted Malory from across the room and shot towards him in her wheel chair, other Matoran leaping out of her way, laughing as they dodged the happily shrieking girl.

"Malory! I longmithed you! Did you takethteal anything for me?" Malory laughed.

"yessure, Tabith, I did takesteal something." Easily lifting Tabith to his shoulder, Malory pointed at Tech. "I tookstole you a biggiant robottoy. It's allyours."

Tech chuckled as Tabith squealed in delight. "Well, little one," he said as he gently picked her up off of Malory's shoulder, "I would be honored to belong to someone as adorable as you." He gently placed her on his right sholder, nestled between his neck and the metal plating.

Tabith frowned seriously. "You can thinkthpeak. I can't keep you. That would be badwrong." She glared down at Malory. "Were you teathefooling me, bigbrother?"

Malory laughed again. "I'm dearsorry, littlesister. Everforgive me."

"Don't worry, Tabith, I'll still be your friend." Tech turned his head to look at the little crippled girl on his shoulder. "If that's all right?" Tabith squealed again and gave Tech a big hug around the neck.

"Yeth! I'll be your bethtfriend, Robottoa! What're you namecalled?"

"My name is Tech." Tech reached down, picked up the wheelchair in one hand, and gently set Tabith in it. "I better put you down. Malory would kill me if you fell."

Tabith giggled. "He'd thlash you to biths. Letth quickgo. You can meetgreet my other friendth."

Loc watched Tech wander off after the speeding girl in the wheelchair. "She's a sweet girl, Malory. Your sister?"

Malory nodded. "Yestrue. She was illborn like that, but it notnever stopslows her. I deeplove my corefamily, but I deeplove her most of all."

"How many Matoran live here?"

"Fifty-four. We are notmany, but we all loathhate the Dumbleader and the BrakasCouncil. Let's foodeat."

It was simple fare, but it was plentiful and delicious. Loc noticed that many of the older Matoran were scowling at him, or shooing their children away. Loc turned to Malory to ask why, and saw him embracing a middle-aged Mag-Matoran with faint wrinkles around his white eyes.

"This is my strongbrave father, Malek. Father, this is the GardenerToa. Toatall, teal, browncloak."

Loc grasped Malek's blindly offered hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Malek. Your son has been very kind."

"Not so loud; I'm blind, not deaf. Good to finally meet a Toa that's not so stuck up." Malek had a strong grip. After releasing Loc's hand, he moved unerringly for a seat and began to eat.

Malory grinned. "My father is one of the older members of the Throwbacks. He was Outcast because of his blindeyes. The Oracle found him blindwandering the streets."

"Why is everyone looking at me funny?" Loc asked.

Malory frowned. "Manyhere were Outcast, so they notlike Toa. I was firstborn here, and holdhave fewer grudges. Notall Toa are evilbad, just BrakasCouncil and Nosyesseffs. The Taleweaver will tellexplain."

A gong rang. All heads turned to look at the end of the dining hall, where there was a stage with a large chair seated in the center. An old, but surprisingly spry Le-Matoran stepped onto the stage. "Gathered friends and brothers," he said, "I am told that we have two visitors among us tonight. We are proud to welcome The Gardener and his friend Tech to our little gathering. As such, I have decided to tell the story of our society, and perhaps answer some little niggling questions that have been on the tip of their tongues." Everyone cheered. The Taleweaver nodded happily, light glinting off the top of his Rau, and then sat down. The lights dimmed.

"Many thousands of years ago, the mighty Toa Nuva awakened the Great Spirit and defeated the vile Makuta. After that, there were no enemies to defeat, no evil to purge from the land. The Toa Nuva, and indeed, all Toa grew complacent, and the Matoran grew jealous of their power. Eventually, the Toa grew tired of all the struggling, and gave up their power to create Toa stones. The new Turaga, no longer respected by the Matoran, were all murdered."

The Taleweaver paused, looking around at his audience. "Matoran scientists soon discovered that the "Hand of Destiny" that chose Matoran to be Toa was little more than a simple genetic switch that could be easily triggered, meaning that all Matoran could become Toa. Volunteers from all of the Matoran races moved to an abandoned island, Iriti, far from any other city. There, or rather, here, they became Toa and founded Iri Nui, the 'Great Experiment.' That was over fifty thousand years ago."

"But our story does not end there. Over the next fifty thousand years, Toa became weaker, mundane, less heroic, and even petty, until they were little more than Matoran in extra armor. It was discovered that certain Matoran, due to disability," he waved at Tabith, "Or an exertion of will, like myself, are unable to become Toa. These Matoran were thrown out of society, and all record of their existence was deleted. These Matoran, or the Outcast as they called themselves, made a meager living by stealing scraps found on the street. The Toa, once so mighty, ignored the beggars that had once been their charges and children."

"That is, until four friends, eight hundred years ago, learned the truth from an old beggar, older than any Matoran known to them. The four, a Ta-, Ko-, Le-, and an Onu-Matoran, found him while exploring one of the oldest parts of the city. He told them everything, and then died. The four friends, mere months away from their thirteenth birthday, began researching covertly. One of the four, the eldest by a week, had a minor birth defect, and suspected that he would not be able to change, and he wished to know as much as he could."

The Taleweaver stared out over his captive audience and looked directly at Loc. "He knew that no imperfect Matoran could be a Toa. He wanted to survive. Time passed. The four friends grew in knowledge, and sought out other Outcast. But the time to change came too soon. Within a month, all four of the friends had been through the ceremony. None became a Toa. They were outcast, and the memory of them was lost. Years passed. Slowly, the four friends learned the ways of survival in the underworld. They began to gather other Outcasts, form gangs that worked together to survive, following the ancient Virtues of Mata Nui."

"It was fifteen years before the four groups merged together. It was decided that, instead of being Outcasts, the new group would become the Throwbacks, a constant reminder of the history of our people. We have grown slowly, and prospered. My friends and I, the four FirstOnes, had forged a culture from a downtrodden band of cripples and misfits. Now, with a prophecy fulfilled, there is hope that the natural balance can be restored." The Taleweaver stood up, and the three other FirstOnes joined him on the stage. Cheers echoed throughout the dining hall.

The Decider waved his hand for silence. "Friends," he said, "we have a duty to our guests tonight. The Matoran of old supported their Toa in the fight for justice. As the new order of Matoran, we must give aid to the Toa who will, in turn, protect us. Toa Loc, Toa Tech, will you take us as charges and helpers?"

All eyes turned to rest on Loc and Tech, but the decision was already made. Perhaps it was Destiny, perhaps it was their awakening Duty, but regardless of their reasons, the two Toa stood up in Unity and agreed.

The Leader sat bolt upright, sweating. He had a horrible premonition of doom, but it soon passed, and he went back to sleep, complacent in his power.

Day 58

"The purge of undesirable businesses and criminals continues in the slums of southern Gra-Iri today, but, according to the Minster of Security, police activity has reached it's peak, and will begin to decrease in the near future." The newscaster smiled blandly, the faint blue streaks around the mouth of his pearly grey Kanohi catching the light. "On a related note, the Council released a recorded statement from the vigilante known as 'The Gardener' earlier this morning."

The newsdesk on the screen faded into the head and torso of a beautiful Toa of Plant-life. Her mask radiated with the intensity of her elemental power, the teal seeming to glow, even in the bright lights of the blank room she sat in. "My name is Lora," she said, "And I am the Gardener. I have been attempting to clean the city of those who are impure, of those who feed off of our prosperity. I was trying to do this without the help of the Council. I was wrong." Lora smiled sadly, although her eyes showed faint signs of her quiet defiance. "My cause was pure, but my methods were…unwise. I beg all who would help to clean this great city of its weeds and low-lifes to be more…cautious…in their decision. Thank you." The film clip ended.

"That was Lora, the self-proclaimed 'Gardener' of Iri-Nui." The newscaster said grimly. "Despite her capture, however, it seems that another Toa of plant-life is stalking the city. Two days ago, INSF officers discovered the body of Solara, the daughter of the Minister of Communication, in an alley. The female Toa of Light was apparently accosted on her way home from work, and was surrounded by withered lightvines, although the cause of her death is still unknown. A holotape found on her body contained a recording of the victim, supposedly _after_ the incident, claiming that she was murdered by a 'shadow entity.' This video is considered to be a hoax." The Toa of Power Scream shook his head, and then smiled again. "After the break, rumors of a monstrous cyborg Toa stalking the city – Our reporters investigate. I'm Gran Technu, and this is the Iri Nui News Network."

Loc turned off the telescreen in the hidden cavern home of the Throwbacks, deep below the surface of Iri-Nui. He sighed. Tech, seated on the couch next to him, shook his head. "The skill of those makeup artists was incredible. From what you told me, Lora has less power than the average Matoran, but they made her seem like she could overpower a Toa Nuva on a bad day."

"Yeah, but she was still resisting, in her own way. She's protecting me, but she told me to keep going." Loc sighed. "I've GOT to get her out of there. Mata Nui only knows what they will do to her."

"I don't think He would like thinking about their intentions."

Mealtime in the Throwbacks' dining hall was a boisterous affair, full of noise and joy that made the homely meals feel like feasts. Young Matoran ran and played, while the elderly gossiped as they sipped Bula juice. The FirstOnes sat at a table up on the raised platform at the end of the room with the two Toa, deep in conversation.

_Thud._

A small tremor lightly shook the room. "What was that?" Loc asked, his eyes sweeping the hall.

"It was nothing. We often get those tremors, this deep below the ground." The Taleweaver smiled reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about." The Historian blinked, but said nothing.

_**Thud**__._

Another tremor, stronger this time, shook the hall. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The hubbub subsided slightly. Loc noticed the Onu-Matoran shifting ineasily. "That doesn't feel like an earthquake," Muttered the Historian.

_**Thud**_.

The room shook again, with a noticeable impact. Silence fell. Loc leapt to his feet, followed by Tech and, to his surprise, Malory. It was too late. With a roaring crash, a massive section of the wall shattered into rubble. Choking black smoke poured through the gap, leaving the Matoran gasping. In the center of the smoke, a massive, glowing figure stood. The figure moved, faster than any being that size should, into the crowd of Matoran. Bodies flew everywhere. Loc moved in, brandishing his staff. A casual backhand, the hand as large as a Matoran, sent him flying into the wall, leaving a large crater.

Loc painfully got to his feet and charged. A jet of white-hot flames shot towards him, but he summoned a flame-resistant vine to shield him from their rage. Around him, the screams of pain and the smell of scorched metal and burned flesh grated at his nerves and sanity. Loc roared in something like rage, and charged, bringing the staff down like a thunderbolt on the head of his foe, who was preoccupied with a small, legless, Matoran girl. The staff snapped. Loc stood, dumbfounded, as the massive being turned and towered over him. It wore a Kanohi Hau with large twisted horns welded to the temples. A mane of crackling flame emerged from behind the mask; fire flickered along the massive limbs. "That hurt," Rumbled the figure, in a voice like an earthquake. Then, it blinked in recognition. "_You!_" it roared. Faster than thought, a pair of massive hands were crushing Loc in their grip. "_GIVE ME BACK MY BIKE!_"

_Mata Nui_, Loc thought, _it's Torch_.

Day 58, Continued

Pain coursed through Loc's body as he heard his ribs creak in Torch's massive hands. He was in agony. The screaming of the Matoran around him, his pain, and the torture of the knowledge that he was trapped in the grip of a Toa who hated him all combined into a massive orchestra of anguish. A loud explosion overcame the screams, and Loc was thrown from Torch's hands.

He landed on the floor, and rolled over to see Tech, smoke rising from the AVAK device in his torso, being hurled through a long table by a powerful backhand from Torch. Loc took the opportunity to study his mammoth opponent more closely. The Toa of fire was horribly misshapen, twice the height of a normal Toa, and weighing three times as much. His muscles bulged horribly from broken cracks in his armor, and tubes pumping some green fluid coursed over him like horrible snakes. A mane of flame crackled angrily from beneath his horned Kanohi Hau. The giant bent and picked up the prone figure of a young Ga-Matoran.

"Hey, Flamebrain!" Loc yelled. "Drop her, and I'll give the bike back!"

Torch looked up, his mouth falling open in an expression of idiotic surprise. "Really?", he rumbled. He tossed the girl over his shoulder, and she hit the wall with a sickening crunch. . It was Tabith, the girl with no legs. Her heartlight flickered madly, then went dead, her arms and head sprawled at unnatural angles.

Time seemed to slow, as Loc stared at the body through a haze of deepening rage. He pushed himself off the floor, reached in his pouch, and pulled out the seed that had defeated Torch before. "Remember this?", he growled. The Morbuzakh sprouted quickly, feeding on the heat in the room and on Loc's power. Torch blinked, then sent twin jets of white-hot flame into the base of the plant. Loc smiled. The Morbuzakh was silhouetted by flame, which it absorbed like water, but it abruptly began to wither. Torch roared with glee, and the flames burned even hotter. The vine crumbled, and then exploded in a massive shockwave of energy, overcome by the sheer heat of Torch's flame. Loc swayed, shocked. _My last resort_, he thought. _Gone._

Torch took a slow step forward, then stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in surprise. A high wail of rage and pain drowned out the screams of the dying Matoran around them. "TAAAABIIITH!" Malory seemed to fly across the room, two long knives in his hands, his dragon tattoo gleaming in the bloody light of a dozen fires. He leapt into the air and plunged his knifes to the hilt in Torch's back. The giant blinked in pain, and stumbled, falling to his knees. Malory stabbed him again and again, screaming out the name of his sister in time with the fountains of blood and lubricant.

Torch fell to the floor, his eyes going dim as he mouthed his last words. "Where's…my bike?" Blood spurted out of his mouth, and he died.

Malory howled in rage, and leapt off his foe. The Matoran seemed to grow taller, more menacing as he stalked towards Loc, bloody daggers in hand. "Power.", he murmured.

"What?"

"Give me power, Plant-Toa! You brought him here, you brought this upon us, you nearly destroyed all we had hoped for! Give me power, the power to achieve vengeance on the unholy society that spawned that freak that destroyed my sister, or join him in the pits of Kharzani! Give me the power to be a Toa – a hero that WILL NOT LET MATORAN DIE!" Spittle flew from Malory's mouth in his rage, the dragon on his cheek seeming to lick its lips in anticipation.

Loc felt himself raise his hands, place them on the Matoran's shoulders. He saw, like he was another person, the reach inside himself towards the inner core of power; the tendril of energy that licked out from the palms of his hands into Malory's body. Loc saw Malory scream in pain as his muscles grew, his armor split and reform, his mind reach out into the deep chasm of elemental energy that began unleashing in uncontrolled bursts, causing all the metal in the room to fly in random orbits around the pair. The aura of Toa energy concentrated on the dragon tattoo, and it crawled around Malory's growing body several times, before resting its head on his chest. The dragon's eyes glowed. The aura faded. Malory pushed himself off the floor, where he had fallen in his agony. All the knives, utensils, fragments of armor, and other metal debris fell to the floor. "This is more like it.", said Malory, as he inspected his limbs. His voice seemed to resonate within his chest with subtle harmonies. He studied the red dragon's head tattooed on his gleaming torso armor. "I did not expect this, but it will do." He turned to Loc. "I was the only one left. They will all be dead soon. You have eliminated the only hope of restoring a society that lasted for millennia. Are you happy now?"

Loc shook his head in mute disbelief.

"Malory. It was such a good name, for a Matoran freedom fighter. Now, however, it simply isn't enough for a powerful Toa of Magnetism with a cause… I know. _Vengeance_. That is my role, my duty, my destiny. It is fitting that it should be my name." The Toa smiled grimly. "Malory is dead. Vengeance lives."

He turned and walked from the room, but paused in the doorway and looked at Loc, still standing shocked, surrounded by dead and dying Matoran. "I want to kill you, but it is so much more fitting for you to have to live with the guilt – for a while. Stay out of my way." Vengeance left.

There was no more screaming. Loc rushed to the side of the nearest prone body on the floor. Dead. The next – dead. The next – dead. An eerie silence, broken only by the crackling flame and the sobs of the Toa of Plantlife, filled the room. A soft moan escaped Loc's lips. He had failed. He had failed his duty to protect the Matoran from evil. He stumbled across the burned bodies of a young Ga Matoran and her mother, their charred arms wrapped tightly around each other in an eternal embrace of fear. He saw the corpse of the Decider, crushed beneath a boulder. He saw the Oracle, his face horrifically mangled by a spar of burning wood, lying sprawled on the floor, feet away from the disembodied head of the Historian. He saw…the Oracle take a deep breath? Loc was at the ancient Ko-Matoran's side in an instant, cradling him in his arms. The Oracle's eyes were charred holes and his mask scarred forever, but he was alive. "Listen, Toa," He wheezed. "You are not to blame. Our life has been changed, shattered, but you can still heal this city. Keep your faith." He grasped one of Loc's hands with both of his. His heartlight dimmed, blinking erratically."Your duty….is to….the city…. Keep…it…." Death claimed the last of the Throwbacks for his own.

Screams echoed through the clean grey corridors of the Center for Social Stability. The inhabitants shuddered, recognizing the reason behind the howl, and praying they weren't next. They would tell all they knew, and more, to avoid pain like that. They weren't fools.

Electricity arced and crackled over Lora's dirty teal armor, leaving darkened trails of seared metal. She screamed until she could scream no more. Time seemed to blur and she longed for the darkness of unconsciousness that was sure to be in reach. The pain was all she knew. There was nothing else. Then it stopped, and then there was nothing. A face seemed to swim across her vision, a blue Kaukau wreathed in heavenly lights. "Stay strong, Toa," it whispered, and then faded away. Lora slipped into blissful oblivion.

Her eyes opened haltingly. They were crusted with blood and dried tears. The light hurt so much. "That was foolish of you." The face of the Minister of security swam into view, his mouth twisted into a parody of a friendly smile. "Usually, prisoners learn to follow the script. But…you did give the message we requested." His eyes twinkled merrily. "So we won't be too strict." The Minister took a seat in a comfortable chair next to the device that held Lora motionless. "There is a saying that we use here in the Ministry of Security. 'To coax a stubborn Rahi, dangle a little Bula berry, and wave a big stick.' We've used the big stick, but now I think that you will respond better to a little reward." The Ta-Toa leaned forward in his seat. "Aid us willingly, and you will be given power beyond your wildest dreams – and the freedom to use it."

A thousand murky thoughts flew through Lora's head, but foremost of all was the thought that she would be able to help Loc. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but a low moan was all that escaped her lips.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" The Minister of Security stood up and walked over to a rack of Kanohi. He selected one and put it on, the sweeping lines and toothy maw making him look more like a Makuta than a Toa. "We recovered this mask from the empty shell of a Makuta named Vamprah. Let's see what it does, shall we?"

This time, there were no screams. The silence was worse.

Day 62

"Hold still, will you! I can't get this bolt tightened if you keep moving!" Loc struggled with a jammed bolt on Tech's artificial arm. The room was cluttered with mechanical devices, and poorly lit, but it had not been damaged in Torch's attack, so it suited his purpose. Tech grunted, and stopped moving. His mechanical components had been heavily damaged, but he was still alive. Loc had been able to repair most of the damage, but the AVAK device had been irreparably damaged by what appeared to be an incorporated explosive charge.

Loc finally managed to tighten the bolt, and stood up, brushing off his hands. "There. That's as much as I can do." He stretched, popping his back. "I just wish that we could have repaired the AVAK device. Wait." Loc paused, thinking deeply. "You were booby-trapped. Why did it detonate then, of all times? Unless… You've been bugged."

The Onu-Toa monitoring the data feed codenamed TECH leaned back in his chair. He had been waiting for this moment, although it had happened sooner than he expected. He pressed a switch on the control panel beside him. "Sir," he said, "The target has figured it out."

A voice over the speaker replied. "Initiate process Beta."

"Yes sir!" The Toa reached over, and flipped up a protective cover over a large red button. "Initiating." He punched the button, a grim smile covering his face.

Tech's eyes went blank. "Tech? What's going on?" Loc asked. Tech did not answer. The voice that responded was a cold, electronic monotone that came from deep inside Tech's chest.

"Destruct sequence activated. Fifteen seconds until detonation"

"Oh, _Kharzani_."

Vengeance clung grimly to the side of a sky scraper in the Hub of Iri-Nui, knowing that if he lost his concentration, he would fall hundreds of bio to his death. Suddenly, he swore, realizing that there would be a _much_ easier way to reach the top. He let go. He fell ten bio before he began levitating with magnetic energy. Vengance rocketed silently towards the penthouse suite at the top of the skyscraper. The glint of starlight highlighted the dragon's head tattooed on his chest. It took very little time to reach the roof of the apartment where he would find his first….client. The predatory grin of the Toa of Magnetism would have scared a Skakdi.

Vengeance slipped over to a broad skylight set into the roof and gingerly undid the locks with his magnetic abilities. The alarm system was a joke, nothing more. In his previous life, Vengeance had been an extremely accomplished thief and infiltrator, and none of his skills had deserted him. He levitated down into the opulent living area, and, being careful not to step on the floor or touch anything, found his way to the bedroom suite. His new powers showed him the little traces of magnetism that flowing electrical current caused, and enabled him to avoid the alarms. When he finally reached the bedroom door, he stopped. The door was blast-proof, with a core of protosteel and additional armor ready to drop at a moment's notice from the ceiling. It was surrounded by exotic sensors and input devices. _Paranoid little Kavikini, aren't you?_ Vengeance smirked. _Might as well give him a wakeup call._

"Knock Knock." Audio sensors picked up the words, analyzed them, and determined that the voice was definitely NOT authorized to enter the room. Alarm sirens screamed, lights flashed, and the additional protosteel shields dropped over the door. Automated Cordak blaster turrets dropped from the ceiling, but were crushed by magnetic force before they could fire. A blast of energy sent the blast doors bursting inward in a twisted heap, sending fragments of metal and plaster dust flying everywhere. Vengeance hovered over the mess, and scanned the room with a practiced eye. There were three unconscious Toa lying on the floor – all female and _very_ attractive – but they were not who Vengeance was looking for.

A glint of light and a hint of motion were all the warning he got, but it was enough to enable him to roll out of the path of a stream of metallic projectiles. He came up from his roll with his throwing knives in hand, and saw a male Vortixx, brown in color, step from behind a secret panel. The Vortixx wore an oversized gauntlet on his left hand, and carried a huge rotary projectile cannon in the other. The being grinned evilly, showing scars on his face. "Run while you can, little Toa. Didn't your mother tell you never to bring knives to a gun fight?"

"No. Why would I need to remember that when I can do _this_?" Vengeance used his new powers to rip the gun and gauntlet away from the Vortixx, who turned ashen-faced and tried to run. Vengeance caught him in magnetic bonds and spun him around slowly. "Not so brave now, are you?" He smirked. The Vortixx was cursing in his native tongue, but he was completely restrained. "You are the director of the INSF's Special Research and Development Division. I'm going to give you two simple choices. Either you can give me complete access to the INSF database and bank accounts, or you can suffer horrendous pain, and _then_ give me full access. I want you to think about which one I would enjoy the most." To emphasize his point, the Vortixx's arms were forced out of socket, causing screams to echo through the bedroom.

"But…the code." The Vortixx panted, after he had finished screaming.

"The Toa's code? The code that you flaunt? The code that your men ignore, that your creations destroy? I will not honor some antiquated code of ethics and let evil survive. This is the new code: kill, and be killed." Vengeance grinned like a Skakdi's skull. "By me." The vortex trembled, tears dripping down his angular muzzle. "So, what's it going to be? Talk, or pain, then talk?"

The Vortixx scientist started talking faster than a Le-Matoran.

Avak sighed. Lora had been gone for – he calculated it in his head – Four hours, twenty seven minutes, and thirteen seconds. She would probably not be back for more than 48 hours. The INSF liked spreading things out. Avak missed her already. Even when she was bruised and beaten, Lora could brighten the most dreary jail cell. The former Piraka hated what the investigators were doing to her. It was totally despicable. He hadn't cared whether his previous cell mates lived or died, but Lora… She was an innocent flower, being bruised and buffeted by cruel hands. Avak considered his options. There was one final idea. He had thought of it first, back when he had been thrown into a force field cell, but it had a sense of total finality that he was uncomfortable with. But… for Lora…

Avak nodded sharply. There would be no guards. He would be done within hours, and then Lora would escape. It was time. He chuckled. "They always said I could make a weapon out of anything." Avak sat down on the bed, and started carefully disassembling his foot.

Day 62

It was a new form of torture, the likes of which had never been experienced by any of the inmates of the Center for Social Stability. Six hours of this had been enough to drive any being mad, but the voice still echoed through the halls. "The foot bone's connected to the… shin bone… _ow!_ The shin bone's connected to the… knee bone… _yowch!_ The knee bone's connected to the… Thigh bone… _the pain!_... the thigh bone's connected to the… Hip bone… _Great Beings, this hurts!_ And again! The foot bone's connected to the… shin bone…" The security team got more confessions of guilt than they had ever before.

Lora writhed on the table in the interrogation room, trying to close her eyes against the hypnotic stare of the Minister of Security's glowing Kanohi Avsa. She grew weaker, finally slumping in utter defeat against the cold surface. The fanged mouth contorted into a smile. "Good. You cannot resist the power. Now, to make you loyal to our cause…" The Kanohi seemed to become the center of the room, all the light trailing in tendrils towards it until… all…. was….. utter….. darkness…..

Loc sped away from the voice counting down the seconds until his doom.

"_Ten._"

He vaulted over fallen stones in his path.

"_Nine._"

Jagged rocks cut his running feet.

"_Eight._"

Loc activated his Kakama, and debris flew in his wake as he dashed upward towards the surface and safety.

"_Goodbye, Loc._"

The explosion rocked the city. The flare of light lit up the sky, and shattered windows in all the districts. Loc flew into the air, tossed like a leaf in a hurricane, dreading the moment when he would become acquainted with the ground far below him. It took several seconds of freefall before he remembered to grow a parachute.

Lora woke up angry. She had been mad before, but never this much, never this fury against everything. It felt good. It felt really good. She opened her eyes. The bright lights stung her eyes. "It's awake. Check for response." A Toa, his element and features disguised by a surgeon's garb, leaned over and flashed a little light in her eyes. Lora winced and blinked.

"Fully conscious, sir. Shall I release her?"

"Is the control device responding?"

An electrical shock jolted through Lora's body, causing her muscles to jerk uncontrollably, but it did not hurt as much as she expected.

"Yes, sir."

"Proceed."

The table that held Lora trapped in metal straps angled upward until she was being held upright facing the Minister of Security, still wearing the Kanohi Avsa. The bindings unlocked with a snap, and Lora slid to the floor, her muscles still weak from lack of use. It felt like she hadn't eaten for days. She pushed herself to her feet, and folded her wings behind her as she glared at the Minister. _Wait, wings?_ She craned her head over her shoulder, and saw a pair of black wings, like those of a bat, growing from her back. Lower down, a muscular tail lashed. "What did you _DO_ to me?" she shrieked, whirling on the Minister. Another jolt of electricity coursed through her, and she collapsed to the floor, twitching.

"We made some… improvements… You now have a power that is beyond the grasp of any other Toa – Shadow." The Minister clapped, and a large mirror descended from the ceiling. Lora screamed. She had kept her teal armor, but much of her body underneath had turned pitch black. Her eyes, glowing with a dark purple light, peered out from under an unfamiliar teal Kanohi that seemed primitive, nearly tribal. She raised her hands to her eyes, and saw that she wore black gauntlets inlaid with a silver symbol similar to the staff-ends of a Vorahk. An insufferable rage flowed through Lora, and she sent a blast of shadow energy firing from her palms into the mirror, which shattered in a cloud of millions of silver shards. The blast was far more powerful than she had expected. Another electrical shock brought her to her knees.

"Yes, the gauntlets amplify your power. You will also find that they enable you to temporarily steal a Toa's element and energy. The Kanohi you are wearing will enable you to transform yourself into a being composed entirely of an element, including those you absorb with your gloves. You are a marvelous being, Agent Vamp." The Minister of Security smirked. "Don't get any ideas – We control you. Resistance is futile."

"Don't tempt me." Lora lunged for the Minister's throat, but a surge of electricity brought her crashing to the floor.

"We'll let you mull it over… Good night." Lora felt a faint prick on her forehead, underneath the strange Kanohi, and faded into oblivion.

Loc landed lightly on the roof of a building in the Sonics district, then absorbed his parachute. He staggered over to the edge, and stared down at the bustling masses of Toa below him. "Why," he whispered, "why does this happen to me? I lost my home, my friends, my charges… Is it the fate of a hero to be rejected?" Loc clenched his fists and stared into space, tears trickling down his cheeks.

A quiet voice whispered "No, it is not." Loc whirled. A diminutive Turaga of Sonics leaned on a cane, smiling gently. He wore a pearly white Kanohi Suletu, barely recognizable through the wrinkles. A blindfold covered his eyes. "The fate of the hero is to give up that which he holds dear for the cause that is greater than his desires. Toa Tahu gave up his pride and his love for Gali. Lhikan gave up his life, as did Matoro. I gave up my prestige."

"Who are you?" Loc asked.

"Me? I'm the former leader of the Order of Mata Nui. My name is Krakua, and I'm here to help you."

Note: This story is incomplete, and will not be finished


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